


Perfect Timing

by Hopesjourney



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 1822 Clarke, 2017 Bellamy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bellarke, Confused Clarke, Cynical Bellamy, F/M, Mystical Happenings, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Strangers to Lovers, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-02-10 14:26:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 115,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18662209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopesjourney/pseuds/Hopesjourney
Summary: In 1822 Clarke Griffin was 25 and considered an old maid by many people.  Content to paint and draw with her time she had no desire to marry or be in 'society'. In 2017 Bellamy Blake was the stressed out head of a large foundation and just wanted a bit of relaxation, when Clarke shows up, relaxation flies out the window.Bellamy slid his scorching lips from hers to trail them enticingly down her neck, nipping passionately along the burning path. He found that pulse he had coveted earlier and drew tantalizing little circles with the tip of his tongue over it and then trailed his tongue down into the shadowy cleft above her bodice.  His hand cupped her breast and felt her nipple harden in response.When Clarke felt his hand reach down to caress her breast, it was as if someone threw a bucket of cold water over her. Reality crashed into her dreamy world of longing. It was distressing and she knew, absolutely knew he shouldn't be doing that.''What's the matter," he began to say when she slapped him across the face. The slap left a stinging imprint of her hand on his face which startled Bellamy and brought him back to reality. "What the hell was that for?" Bellamy said angrily while rubbing his cheek.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all will enjoy this different take on our 100 world. The story is 35 chapters long including an epilogue and is completed already. I will post every Tuesday and for the first time here I am posting 2 chapters. I love reading your thoughts and ideas about the story and I will always answer all your comments. If you have other questions to ask you may email me at hopesjourney@gmail.com
> 
> Happy Reading

Clarke looked around her in dismay at the gathering clouds. She frowned as she realized she must soon start back to Roberts Folly. 

 

The morning had started out as a perfect early summer day. The grass was a vivid green still fresh with the morning dew and the flowers in the meadow were fragrant and bursting with every color imaginable. The leaves on the tall oak trees and willows were waving in the gentle breeze making a soft sighing sound. This meadow was such an agreeable prospect she thought with an artist’s eye for detail. She had wandered farther than she had intended to, but the vibrant colors of the meadow called her name, and she knew that they would make a most glorious background for the watercolor painting she was working on. 

 

Drawing and painting made Clarke feel alive and regardless of what her grandmother thought, it was not a waste of time. Clarke found peace in her art endeavors, a peace that was not often found within the boisterous Griffin household. It was Clarke's retreat, getting lost in a project, a world where she had control and could create in any fashion she desired; a time just for herself, not to be shared with anyone else. She felt great satisfaction in her work, and her father, brothers Jackson and Terrance, and her Aunt and Uncle Archer said her paintings were very good. 

 

Patience Griffin, Clarke's grandmother said it would all come to naught; that what was truly important was finding a ‘good catch’. "A successful marriage Clarke, that is what holds the key to your future happiness and success, not painting pictures. A lady may count to her credit the cleverness of completing a nice watercolor, as she may also her skill at needlework, but one must remember that they are only unnecessary entertainment, not true accomplishments. A husband Bellamy place no value in whether you can draw a fine line. No indeed, it's whether you are able to run a household that shall matter." Nothing else really seemed to concern her marriage-minded grandmother. Since there were three daughters in the Griffin household to be married off, possibly Patience had a point, but Clarke was not ready to concede just yet. 

 

Clarke's father laughed at her grandmother's matchmaking attempts and told her not to worry. “After all Mother, with three such beautiful and talented daughter's, how could they go unnoticed for long?” he questioned with his typical good humor. Patience had no true understanding of her granddaughter Clarke's dreams; they were dismissed as ‘wasted effort’ in her opinion. She also believed Mr. Griffin indulged Clarke far too much than was good for her. It didn’t do Clarke a bit of good to think that these ideas of hers could come to anything but wasted time, of no use to anyone. 

 

But someday Clarke determined, people would notice! 

 

At 25, Clarke wanted marriage to be a long way off. Or hoped it would be, anyway. There was so much she wanted to do with her life, so many fine places to visit and people to meet. But she also knew that time was extremely limited now; indeed she was considered far past her prime by the standards of 1822. Her younger sisters, Marcella and Virginia, at ages 18 and 20 were already out and her grandmother felt such despair as none of them had any promising prospects at this time. Clarke’s older brothers were both married and settled, and worked with her father at his very successful fabric and mill business. Jackson had already produced an heir to the Griffin family fortune and her grandmother never let any of them forget it.

 

The girls all had ample dowries of course. Virginia was very bookish and wished to become a teacher, which was unheard of for her social class and upbringing. But she was determined to do so and nothing her grandmother said or did convinced her otherwise. So she was to start college in the autumn and her father, as well as her other siblings was very proud of her. Marcella enjoyed being pursued by the many gentlemen who called on her, but refused to settle on any of them. It was perhaps a bit indulgent of their father to allow this behavior by Marcella but much like his allowances for Clarke’s art, he let the girls do as they chose and generally turned a deaf ear to his mother’s frustrated entreaties to make them marry. 

 

Clarke dreamed of going to Boston or maybe even New York, of seeing all the amazing places she had read about, the museums, and, well, she could just imagine the excitement of a visit to the city! Mostly, she wanted to see the wonderful paintings, just the thought of it quite took her breath away. She wanted to paint the wondrous sites there as well, stroll along the city streets and marvel at all a city could offer a young woman of gentle breeding who had never been allowed a visit to those fine places. 

 

Abby, Clarke’s mother had died a dozen years ago, and Clarke along with her grandmother had taken on the role of mothering the other two Griffin girls and a lively handful they were too Clarke acknowledged. Most people would consider 25 to be far past the age for marriage and would consider Clarke to be a spinster. Most days that was fine with her she thought, especially days when grandmother was on a rampage about ‘accomplishments’ and ‘deportment’ and all the other incessant things that young ladies had to learn and embody in order to be considered ‘eligible’ for marriage. Maybe spinsterhood isn’t so bad after all. She did however acknowledge that she mightn’t ever have the chance at marriage but if it be because she could work on her art, she would consider it well worth the cost. Except that she did so yearn for children of her own but without a husband that would never be permitted.

 

Of course, there had never been a young man in whose company she could be happy so she didn’t believe she was missing out on matrimony. Her heart had never felt the fluttering of love, never pounded in response to a gentleman’s gaze; likewise her breath had never quickened when viewing a handsome countenance.

 

_Maybe I am just not supposed to marry._

 

Just then a huge raindrop plopped down onto her nose, disturbing her pleasant daydream and she looked up in alarm as she realized that the rain was here quicker than she had expected. Clarke, she chastised herself, leave it to you to daydream for so long and get caught out like this. You'll be soaked in moments. Looking around frantically for someplace to shelter from the storm, she jumped as a magnificently bright bolt of lightning struck an old towering oak tree not too far from where she was standing. A large bough of the tree was struck into two pieces, smoke smoldering out from the wound and Clarke heard a sizzling, popping sound as the raindrops hit it. Truly frightened now, Clarke knew she must find shelter and began to run.

 

She took a few steps and realized she had forgotten to gather her paints up. For a brief moment caution told her to run quickly, but even as more lightning flashed brightly around her, she decided she must go back to gather the paints and easel. Thunder boomed continuously, loud and cracking sounds that made Clarke shudder. _Why did I walk so far from home this morning?_ Except in the fair morning, it hadn't really seemed that far, but with dismay, Clarke realized she had walked for over an hour. Also, the storm was disorientating to her with the rain pouring down and the sky flashing angrily. Looking frantically around her, she couldn't really be sure exactly which way to go. Tears of frustration and fear streamed freely down her face, mixing with the cold, unsympathetic raindrops. Miserably, she realized she didn't know which way to go. Cold and shivering, she looked around her helplessly as she clutched her paints and easel. The sky and indeed the very air appeared to be colored a strange hue, not quite yellow and not quite green. The air seemed to make her nose tingle when she breathed and felt very heavy and thick. She looked up towards the dark, thickly swirling clouds and thought she had never seen them appear to be so close and dense. It seemed as if they were almost right on top of her. 

 

For a breathless instant, Clarke stood watching in frozen fascination as they twirled and danced above her head, mesmerized. She felt positively dizzy, as if the storm was spinning her around. In a moment of time standing still, she watched as a luminous bolt of lightning reached grizzled fingers down from the sky to strike the ground at her feet. For an instant, she felt outside of herself, caught in the swirling clouds, weightless, and yet as if she were being pressed to the ground. Dazed and scared, her breath whooshed from her terrified form in the manner of an empty scream as she felt herself lifted and then thrown to the ground. Just before she lost consciousness, she thought she saw a most strange apparition.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bellamy Blake felt the need to escape; from himself, from life in general and most especially from Mercedes Archer who was the sister of his best friend Miller. Clinging and suffocating, that's what Bellamy thought about Mercedes, with a big dose of sadly desperate thrown in. Bellamy had known Miller and Mercedes for many years, since they were children in fact. Early on, Mercedes' beauty and confidence fascinated Bellamy, but no longer. Now, it was uncomfortable to be around her and he tried desperately not to be alone with her. He knew better than to expect anything different from Mercedes when he visited Archer House, yet Archer House itself and Miller's company were great rewards.

 

As he cruised along the country lane in the BMW convertible, Bellamy thought about the visit at Archer House. There was a great deal of peace to be found at Archer House and in the company of Miller, and on these rare times of escape, he felt almost lighthearted again, as when he was young and carefree. Damn, who was he kidding? He had never been lighthearted and carefree.

 

Responsibility, duty and obligation had been woven into the fabric that is Bellamy Blake. Life and its duties were to be taken seriously and never, but never ignored or neglected. There was a responsibility that came with wealth and the successful management of those resources. Since his father’s death, he felt the weight of responsibility even greater, but it had always been a part of him. He supposed he had been in training his whole life for his role as the Conservator of the Blake Foundation, a philanthropic organization which oversaw and managed the funds and resources that provided research and development into the treatment of terminal illness and provided financial relief and support for families dealing with the potential loss of loved ones.

 

The Blake Foundation was highly regarded in medical circles, not only because it provided relief for the families, but it also supported research in the medical community. Its resources were enormous and far-reaching, with contributors from many countries in the world, with help also being available in those places. But keeping the funds and research local took a great deal of planning, organizing and traveling. And as fulfilling it all was, it also was draining for Bellamy.

 

Bellamy had taken two weeks off to relax, something he had never done before. A few days here and there, were all he had ever allowed himself. His sister, Octavia was on holiday from school and they had spent a few delightful days together, laughing and catching up on their lives. He thought of his vivacious, beautiful sister with a wry grin. Bellamy regretted that he had so little time to spend with Octavia, otherwise known as Tavie, but then thought ruefully that she was so involved in school and friends that she didn't miss him nearly as much as he missed her. That's the way it should be really, because someday, she would also be taking her place in the Foundation. Let her live and have fun while she still can, he thought sadly, because before she knew it, it would all end and responsibility would weave itself into her daily life. Right now at least Tavie was lighthearted and carefree.

 

After he had taken Tavie to the airport catch a flight to visit friends, Bellamy felt out of sorts at Willow View, the Blake family estate. The problem was, he thought, he had so little free time to relax and enjoy he didn’t quite know what to do with himself when he did. Those times he did have a day or two free, he usually spent it alone, his nose stuck in a book. The book was always a book related to business of course, he couldn’t honestly remember reading a book just for enjoyment for many years. And if it wasn’t a book, it was the laptop that was his constant and faithful companion. He longed for his younger years when reading was about history, and especially ancient history. 

 

Willow View had been the home of the Blake family for many generations. When Bellamy's parents were alive, it had at least felt like a home, filled with laughter and joy. When Bellamy's mother had been diagnosed with cancer, his father had inevitably changed. The Foundation and all its resources couldn't save her, and Bellamy's father never really recovered. When he died later as well, Bellamy was left to raise Tavie, maintain the family home and run the Foundation, all jobs he had been trained for and all jobs he felt completely unqualified to perform. But, he took one day at a time and managed to make it all work. When Tavie left for college this past fall, suddenly the house seemed bereft of joy, quiet to the point of desolation.

 

With nothing but empty days stretching ahead of him, Bellamy called Miller, who thought a few days at Archer House were just what they both needed. Miller worked in the Foundation as head of research. He worked as hard as Bellamy, but at least Miller knew how to leave the problems at work and relax. Miller had spent many a day lecturing Bellamy on the need to let it all go for a bit and just have some fun. Bellamy wasn't even sure he remembered what that meant, have fun. But still, he had come to Archer House with Miller, and as luck would have it, Mercedes showed up. He still wasn't convinced it was a totally innocent coincidence, her turning up that way. Miller knew how she tried to wrap herself up with Bellamy and wouldn't have told her they were coming, yet still, here she was. He hadn't had more than a few moments peace since they arrived yesterday, and frankly, he wasn't sure he was going to stay. Fighting Mercedes off every few minutes was not his idea or fun or relaxation.

 

Bellamy had gotten in his car and drove through the countryside, at least enjoying the beautiful scenery around him. The top was down in his car, a pure luxury really because the weather in Boston sometimes involved a great deal of rain, so the top didn't come down much. But days like today made it all worthwhile and he relaxed as he felt the car respond to the demands of the road. 

 

He noticed grudgingly that the clear, sunny day was quickly changing to a morning filled with the promise of rain. It was a little way off though and Bellamy was determined to savor every moment he could before he would have to put the top up.

The area around Archer House was very scenic. Lots of trees, and occasional brook and colorful meadows filled the landscape with the best of nature’s gifts. There were only a few estates in the area and most were well maintained and extensively manicured. Bellamy had passed one old estate that was run down and uninhabited a few minutes later before he decided he had to put the top up on the convertible. Rain was starting to fall with purpose from the heavy clouds, and Bellamy pressed the button that would raise the top.

 

As luck would have it, the top came part way up and stalled, at just the same moment as the sky decided to open its floodgates. Bellamy hurriedly got out of the car and reached to grab the top to pull it loose. "Damn," he yelled in frustration as he furiously worked to free the top. The rain was coming down in sheets, thunder and lightning all around him and the air felt strange, heavy and almost electrically charged he caught the slight scent of ozone tingle his nose.

 

With a final, forceful tug on the top, it slipped into the fasteners and Bellamy ran around the car to get in. At that moment, a monstrous lightning bolt struck the ground out in the meadow, sending sparks flying and a sharp crack that sounded like a gun being fired. Bellamy decided to get out of the area as quickly as possible, but as he was opening the car door, he could have sworn he saw a woman lying on the ground near where the lightning bolt had struck.

 

That's preposterous he thought, there hadn't been anyone there a few moments before. He looked again at the meadow, but the rain was blanketing the horizon and he couldn’t see anything. _Bellamy, you are imagining it! Get out of here!_ He pulled away with the tires spinning and trying to grip the wet roadway. A few yards down the road he stomped on the breaks. What if there had been a woman there he thought to himself? Impossible as it seemed, he had to go back and check.

 

He backed the car up to the place he had been stopped and got out of the car and headed into the meadow, watching the sky with suspicion. The clouds were swirling and thick over the meadow, and the smell of ozone still strong in the air. As he ran a few yards into the meadow, he definitely saw the shape of a woman, lying on the ground. 

 

The ground was blackened around her and she seemed very still. Fearing she might be dead, he knelt beside her and reached out to touch her face. She was pale, and she felt cool to the touch, but Bellamy noticed with relief that she was breathing, although somewhat shallowly. He wondered what on earth she was doing out here, as it was a few miles back to the nearest house. She also seemed to be in some sort of costume, which showed blackened signs of her close proximity to the lightning bolt. There was a small portable easel and paint set lying beside her. A canvas of what had probably been a painting of the meadow lay a few feet behind her, ruined by the torrential rain. Silly woman must have been out here painting.

 

_I wonder where her car is._

 

As he reached for her wrist to see if he could find a pulse, her eyes fluttered open and closed again rapidly. "Miss, are you okay" he asked hesitantly. Her eyes opened again, and Bellamy found himself looking into the most beautiful pair of blue eyes he had ever seen. Large, almost cat shaped really, despite the fear and confusion in them, they held Bellamy's attention. 

 

"Miss, can you sit up? Or shall I carry you to my car?" he asked. Clarke tried to sit up, and felt waves of dizziness wash over her. She laid her head back down and looking at the sky noticed with relief that the storm had all but stopped. Bellamy looked up too, and smiled, glad that the storm appeared to have passed. When he smiled, Clarke's breath caught in her chest. His smile was dazzling, and made her feel safe somehow, as if he could take care of everything. 

 

Clarke tried to sit up again and Bellamy's arm went around her to help raise her up and support her. It brought her face up level with his and Bellamy looked again into those eyes, those beautiful sapphire blue eyes that seemed to be filled with trust and gratitude. She looked into Bellamy’s face and felt a flush of warmth spread quickly up her neck and face and her pink tongue slowly moistened her lips. Bellamy's heart seemed to skip a beat and then perform a rapid dance in his chest as he watched her lick her lips and for one breathless moment, he forgot where they were and slowly, hesitantly reached out and cupped her face gently with his hand. He tenderly traced the outline of her soft, luscious looking pink lips with his thumb, his touch so light she thought she must have imagined it. For one moment, they were caught in a world where nothing else existed, their breath coming shakily to both of them; each unable to break the gaze that had them both entranced. He noticed the pulse beating erratically in her long, lovely neck and wondered what it would feel like to kiss her there, to feel that spot pulsing beneath his tongue as he spread more kisses over her throat.

 

Clarke watched the emotions spreading across Bellamy's handsome face and knew she was caught in some place where she had never been before. Something was creeping and twisting in the pit of her stomach, some unknown, unrecognized feeling that made her feel strangely anxious. As she stared at his face, she saw a warm pair of chocolate brown eyes, looking at her with...longing perhaps? His face was quite tan and he had a smattering of freckles on his cheeks and nose. His lips were firm looking, and yet she noticed a slight tremor about them and a small scar over his top lip, as if he wanted to say something. His eyes continued to stare at her and then moved down to her neck and she watched his quick intake of breath. She felt almost giddy for a moment, almost like the time when she and Marcella had taken sips of their father’s port.

 

And then, something behind him caught her eye. With wide eyes, that reflected panic she stared and raised a shaky finger to point at what was behind her rescuer.

 

"Whe....where are your horses? What manner of carriage is that?" Clarke asked before she fainted into Bellamy's arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In 1822 Clarke Griffin was 25 and considered an old maid by many people. Content to paint and draw with her time she had no desire to marry or be in 'society'. In 2017 Bellamy Blake was the stressed out head of a large foundation and just wanted a bit of relaxation, when Clarke shows up, relaxation flies out the window.
> 
> "Sir, will you go to collect the horses?" she asked curiously, looking about the countryside in question.
> 
>  
> 
> "What horses are you talking about?" he demanded, his voice sounded harsh because he was still trying to push the passion down. He realized he was speaking much louder than he meant. "There are no horses here. Did you ride a horse out here to paint?" He raked his hand through his still damp, curling hair in frustration. "I can take you home and someone can come along and find your horse later," he suggested, a bit more gently. "Your costume is still very wet and we should get you home quickly."

For a moment Bellamy stared at the woman cradled in his arms and thought how fragile she looked. He didn't think she could be more than 23 or 24 years old; her skin, although very pale and translucent looking was unlined and incredibly soft he thought as he gently stroked her cheek. But fear for her soon loomed in his mind as he picked her up and carried her to the car. Surely she had been injured by the apparent lightning strike.

 

He laid her gently in the passenger seat and pulled the lever to recline the seat, then quickly went to retrieve her paints and easel. He looked at the ruined painting for a moment before grabbing it as well and hurriedly made his way back to the car and placed them in the trunk. He looked at his passenger and thought he saw her eyes flutter briefly. Bellamy wondered if her fainting had to do with her being struck with lightning, which would make a lot of sense he thought, or if there was something else wrong. He pulled out his cell phone and was trying to find a signal when Clarke opened her eyes and saw Bellamy, and what he was holding in his hand.

 

A startled Clarke tried to sit up quickly, but she still felt too weak to more than halfheartedly raise herself a few inches. Her eyes opened wide and blinked rapidly in surprise as she looked about the carriage. It was very small inside she thought, only room for the two of them and the inside had many strange fixtures she didn't understand.

 

Bellamy saw her eyes open and start to focus on the interior of the car. He hurriedly folded the cell phone and tucked it into his pocket. "Miss, are you alright?" he questioned gently. "Shall I help you to sit the seat up?"

 

Clarke looked at Bellamy, a bemused look on the face, and then glanced down at the seat.

 

"Miss, can you speak English?" Bellamy inquired. He saw the confusion on her face and thought maybe she didn't speak English and that was why she was just staring at everything. He slowly reached his hand out to gently touch her face and asked, "What's your name?"

 

Clarke was staring out the window of the carriage and wondering how they were to go anywhere without the horses. They must have run off in the fierce storm she thought. She tried again awkwardly to sit up and Bellamy reached across her and raised the lever which quickly brought the seat up and Clarke let out a barely controlled squeal. Clutching her hands together tightly in her lap, she focused her gaze on Bellamy. 

 

"How did you do that?" she asked. Bellamy smiled at her again, showing a very delightful dimple in his chin. Clarke thought him a most handsome gentleman and shyly inspected him beneath lowered lashes. He seemed tall and had a well-formed body, but it was his eyes that attracted her the most. They were an intense shade of brown with with almost copper colored flecks in them and tiny little lines at the corners when he smiled. She felt that she had somehow met him someplace or sometime before. Goodness, but her breath just seemed to catch in her throat as she looked at him. He had black hair that came to just below his ears in a riot of soft looking curls and she longed to reach out and touch it.

 

"So you do speak English," Bellamy stated. "What’s your name?" he asked again. Color was beginning to return to her previously pale face and her cheeks were now delightfully pink, the color of dusky pink roses. She's like a country garden he thought, gorgeous blue eyes, and rose-colored cheeks he thought. How he wanted to kiss her! He imagined what her beautiful lips would feel like, maybe soft and pliant satin, and they would be so sweet. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them Bellamy watched a subtle glow spread across her face. He leaned slowly toward her, and hesitated just inches from her face. For moment their eyes met and their gazes locked; nothing else existed. Bellamy felt like a lad still at school, eager for his first kiss.

 

Clarke sat there, confused by the emotions coursing through her trembling body. Her breath was shaky and she could feel her heart beating erratically. She exhaled slowly, feeling it catch in her throat and she closed her eyes for a moment hoping uselessly that it would help her to compose herself. When she opened them it was just in time to see him lean closer to her and she couldn't move, didn't want to move away. She felt heat spread quickly up her neck and face and wanted to say stop, don't, but as soon as she opened her mouth to speak, Bellamy claimed her lips slowly and tenderly with his own.

 

This wasn't at all what she expected. She thought kisses were quick and perfunctory gestures and were best not overly indulged in. Clarke had never imagined this. His lips were so smooth and he was lightly, almost imperceptibly moving them against her own. Their lips felt as if they were made for each other, her curves against his, bottom lips rubbing softly against one another, mouths seemingly molded to one others. 

 

Bellamy’s hand gently cupped her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. His hand moved up into her still wet hair, and tried to find the pins that would free it. He imagined it would be beautiful, long and silky to the touch. He found pins, long wicked looking things and decidedly sharp. "Why on earth does she have these things stuck in her head?" he wondered as he freed the last silky blonde locks and ran unsteady fingers through them. 

 

Bellamy pressed his lips more firmly against hers, increasing the sensation, tantalizing and torturing them both at the same time. As his mouth feasted upon hers, he felt her quiver, then gradually relax. He opened his mouth and lightly teased her lower lip with the tip of his tongue before he delved his tongue deeper into the sweetness of her mouth and slowly stroked the inside of her cheek. He felt her jump when she felt his tongue in her mouth and he waited for one impatient heartbeat to give her time to adjust. 

 

Clarke wasn't quite sure what was happening to her, surely a kiss wasn't supposed to feel like this? This was better than anything she ever could have imagined. She and Marcella had talked about what a kiss would be like, but they never thought of this. Clarke felt hot and strangely excited, like right before you open your gift on Christmas. You know that something wonderful is going to happen, but you don't know exactly what. Her stomach felt as if a large butterfly were loose in it, fluttering its wings excitedly. She felt his tongue softly stroke her lip and then it moved inside her mouth, deepening the kiss to her amazement and confusion. For a moment she debated whether she should stop this immediately, but she didn't want to stop. She wanted more, wanted to know why it felt so good and what might happen next. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on.

 

As he felt her relax in his arms, Bellamy felt encouraged and let his desire take the kiss further. His lips molded hers, contour to contour, his tongue stroking everything in its path. Instinctively Clarke opened her mouth as far as she possibly could; she could not get enough of this heady feeling. Tentatively she touched her tongue to his and he groaned deep in his throat. She was not sure if that was good or not, but he did not seem to be stopping.

 

When Bellamy felt her tongue make contact with his, it sent waves of excitement shooting through his body and he tried to move into a more comfortable position as he felt himself growing aroused. He pulled her to him tightly and felt her body trembling as she clutched him tighter around the neck.

 

As he leaned back in his seat, he pulled Clarke closer to him and she only hesitated for an instant before holding him tighter. Clarke’s head was spinning, she didn't understand what was happening, but she knew she must stop this folly. She didn't want to, but knew she had to. His mouth was sliding down her neck and she thought for a minute she was going to faint again, the feeling was so exciting.

 

Bellamy slid his scorching lips from hers to trail them enticingly down her neck, nipping passionately along the burning path. He found that pulse he had coveted earlier and drew tantalizing little circles with the tip of his tongue over it and then trailed his tongue down into the shadowy cleft above her bodice. She smelled very good, maybe like lavender, but whatever the smell, it evoked within him some type of primitive urge. His hand cupped her breast and felt her nipple harden in response.

 

When Clarke felt his hand reach down to caress her breast, it was as if someone threw a bucket of cold water over her. Reality crashed into her dreamy world of longing. It was distressing and she knew, absolutely knew he shouldn't be doing that. Struggling with unrecognized desire, she started fighting to free herself, not only from Bellamy but from her own overwhelming feelings.

 

At first Bellamy didn't realize that her agitated movements were efforts to move away, but slowly it penetrated Bellamy's passion-clouded thoughts that she was trying to move off of him.

 

''What's the matter," he began to say when she slapped him across the face. The slap left a stinging imprint of her hand on his face which startled Bellamy and brought him back to reality. "What the hell was that for?" Bellamy said angrily while rubbing his check. 

 

"Sir, you dare too much. I insist that you escort me to my home, that I might find the comfort of my family," Clarke said in a flat, but shaky voice. What she really felt was that she had dared too much, but oh, it was so exciting.

 

"Fine, fine. Where do you live?" he asked while he stared out the car window. The sky was a clear blue again and the meadow and leaves of the trees were glistening with their dressing of raindrops. "Damn," he thought to himself, you have really stepped in it this time. She was beautiful, and he thought regretfully that she would probably never talk to him again.

 

"Sir, will you go to collect the horses?" she asked curiously, looking about the countryside in question.

 

"What horses are you talking about?" he demanded, his voice sounded harsh because he was still trying to push the passion down. He realized he was speaking much louder than he meant. "There are no horses here. Did you ride a horse out here to paint?" He raked his hand through his still damp, curling hair in frustration. "I can take you home and someone can come along and find your horse later," he suggested, a bit more gently. "Your costume is still very wet and we should get you home quickly."

 

Bellamy reached down and turned the key in the ignition. The car engine came quickly to life and Bellamy turned to her and started to ask her where she lived, but at the unknown sound of the engine, she felt panic-stricken and frantically tried to find a way out of the car.

 

Clarke didn't understand anything that was happening. She only knew she had to get back out to the meadow, out of this carriage and think. She knew there must be a way out and searched desperately for it. 

 

Bellamy reached over to try to calm her down and she turned on him, beating her hands against his chest, believing he was trying to kiss her again, and she was determined to get away. "Let me out of this carriage. How do I get out?" she cried. Her eyes were huge and brimming with unshed tears. 

 

Bellamy reached over her and pulled the lever to open the door. As soon as the door opened, the alert chime started ringing and the overhead light came on. Clarke let out a strangled cry and blinked uncomprehendingly at the light. The door was opened and in her haste to get out she tumbled out of the car, her desperation and fear making her trip over her skirt. As she tried, uselessly it seemed to Bellamy to sort herself out, he turned the engine off and got out and came around to help her. When the noise stopped, she looked at the car and saw Bellamy coming around to where she was laying on the wet ground. She felt horribly embarrassed by her circumstance and when he got near to her, she begged him to just leave her alone. Bellamy stopped for a moment, and then as soothingly as possible, reached down and pulled her to her feet. 

 

"I-said-leave-me-alone!" she yelled, whatever composure she may have had gone. She lifted her skirt and started running toward the meadow. Bellamy stared after her in amazement and watched as she stopped in horror when she got to the spot where he had found her. She looked at the scorched ground and then for the first time seemed to take in the state of her skirt. As if in slow motion, she sank to the ground and buried her head in her hands, letting the tears flow freely.

 

Bellamy sat in the car to allow her a few moments to collect herself. She has been through a lot and you didn't help any by practically ravishing her Bellamy, he told himself. He leaned back in the seat and rested his head for a few minutes. All he had wanted today was a little bit of peace, and look at the situation he was in now. He looked back out into the meadow and saw that she seemed to have calmed down a bit; in fact she was looking around her with a puzzled look on her face.

 

The meadow, Clarke thought was the same, and yet somehow different. That tree over there wasn't here earlier, several of the trees were larger than they had been and the large oak tree that had been struck by lightning was gone altogether. And the lane where the carriage was sitting used to be a dirt road and now seemed larger, and covered with some sort of stone. Nothing was as it should be. _It's as if I have traveled to a new world, somewhat the same, and yet not._ She must get home she decided.

 

Bellamy got out of the car and quietly approached as she was sitting on the ground, lost in thought. He knelt down beside her and said gently, "I apologize for frightening you a few minutes ago. It wasn't my intention." He offered her his hand; "My name is Bellamy Blake. What’s yours?" And then he smiled at her and she again felt warmth spreading across her face, but she also felt safe and knew he wouldn't hurt her.

 

"Clarke. Clarke Griffin. I live at Robert’s Folly. Could you take me home in your..." and she simply nodded at the carriage.

 

"Yes, certainly I can. You’ll have to tell my where Robert’s Folly is since I don't know the area very well," he said as he helped her to stand. "I’m only visiting here in Archer’s Grove." They made their way back to the car and he was sure he saw a look of anxiety flash briefly across her face, followed by determination as she took a seat and he tucked her skirt into the car and closed the door.

 

Clarke tried to compose herself for whatever might happen next. Bellamy got in the car and reached next to his seat and pulled some type of strap across himself and buckled it with a ‘snap’ sound into some type of harness. He turned the strange key again and the noise resumed. She listened to the sound the carriage made, which was unlike anything she had ever heard before. Bellamy turned to her and said, "Will you please fasten your seat belt? So we can go," he prompted. For a moment Clarke couldn't imagine what he was asking her, then with understanding, reached over and pulled her ‘seat belt’ around her and fastened it into the harness, as she had seen him do. She then looked at Bellamy and timidly smiled halfheartedly at him. 

 

For a moment Bellamy was lost again in her beautiful smile and felt that all would be right with the world if this woman would just continue to smile at him this way. Bellamy couldn't imagine what she did to him to make him feel like this, but it was definitely dangerous. Shaking the feeling off, he said "Which way to Robert’s Folly, My Fair Lady?"

 

Clarke looked at him quizzically, not understanding who my fair lady was and then pointed back down the road, the way he had come. He didn't remember anything back there for quite a ways except the run-down estate, but figured he probably hadn't noticed a turn somewhere. Even so, it still seemed pretty far for her to be out here without a car. Ah, Bellamy, you’re forgetting the horse he reminded himself.

 

Bellamy slipped the car into gear and turned it around in the road. He missed Clarke's fingers rigidly gripping the edges of the seat as the car started to move. The car smoothly accelerated along and Bellamy stole another glance at her. Clarke. He tried the sound of her name out in his head and thought she seemed very much like a ‘Clarke’. The name was unusual for a girl and yet seemed to suit her. He smiled to himself and imagined calling her ‘Clarke’ and glanced over at her. She appeared to be very tense, sitting very stiffly, her back barely touching the back of the seat and her hands were holding on to the sides of her seat.

 

Clarke cleared her throat and pointed to the left side of the road and said, "Very soon there will be a drive off the lane and you should take that, right past this strand of trees." As they passed the trees, Bellamy remembered the only thing there was the old estate, and shrugged. There must be a house farther down that road. He made the turn into the drive and heard a sharp cry come from Clarke.

 

She was staring in horror at what was her home, Robert’s Folly. It was a desolate ruin; the carefully tended drive neglected and there was no sign of her grandmother’s beautiful gardens. "Stop, STOP," she cried, and when Bellamy eased the car to a stop, she fumbled with the seat belt to unfasten it then she threw open the door and ran to the house.

 

Obviously, no one lived there, and not for a very long time. "What is happening?" she cried, silent tears running freely down her once again pale face.

 

Bellamy got out of the car and came to stand directly behind her. "It's a shame these old estates have been allowed to fall into disrepair isn't it? I wonder how long it has been since someone lived here?" he commented out loud, unaware of her horrified reaction. 

 

She turned to face him and he was startled to see the pain showing on her face, and the quiet, salty tears, streaking her cheeks. 

 

"It was this morning," she spoke, her voice barely audible. “This is Roberts Folly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are really having a rough time and it gets even worse as Clarke tries to navigate in a totally foreign world which is full of confusing things all around her. See you next Tuesday to continue the adventures.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke explores Roberts Folly, looking for any clue as to what had happened to it. Finally, she discovers proof that she wasn't imagining it as she shows Bellamy what she found. But Bellamy is more convinced than ever that she is lying about it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here it is Tuesday and I want to thank everyone for all the kudos and the comment on the last chapter. The story is getting more intense as both Bellamy and Clarke begin to face a reality they are not prepared for. ALSO, starting today I will be posting TWO days a week until the end of the story. Tuesday and Friday. So come along with me and explore Clarkes new world.

_______________________________________________________

Bellamy smiled for a moment and then realized she was completely serious. Or maybe confused. Had the lightning caused some type of amnesia or something he wondered? She had turned around to face the house again and slowly started walking towards it.

 

He looked at the house with interest. It had once been a fine and stately mansion he could see. Three stories tall, with attic dormer windows, it had balconies off of several of the rooms and there was a ‘Widow’s Walk’ along the roof with a wrought iron fence around it. The Widow’s Walk was interesting as the house was situated 30 miles from the Atlantic and that feature on these old houses was usually only found along the shores. As he studied the house he could tell it had evidently been built with care and excellent craftsmanship because other than the obvious deleterious effects that time had bestowed upon it, it looked to be still in remarkably sturdy condition. It was built of red brick that had faded to a rosy patina with white marble columns in front of it, four of them standing silent guard over the broad entryway. White shutters had once adorned the many-paned windows, but were now mostly hanging askew or were gone entirely. The lower windows were almost totally obscured by over-grown vegetation run wild with neglect. Some of the window panes were broken out as well and it made the place look very sad he decided. 

 

Around the back he could see another large brick building and he wondered if that was where she was living. He walked around the side of the house to get a better look at it, but it was in as bad a state of disrepair as the house was. From the size it was probably a coach house most likely. He walked back around to the front of the house and saw Clarke standing in front of the door, her small hand covering her mouth as she silently cried, the tears streaking her face that had gone pale once again.

 

He went to her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder; a shoulder that was hunched forward as silent sobs wracked her body. Whatever was going on was certainly affecting her strongly he realized, whether real or not.

 

C’mon Bellamy, how on earth can this be true?

 

The idea that someone could live in this mess was appalling. Of course, there were lots of homeless people and he supposed it wasn’t unreasonable that they lived in the country as well as the city. He sighed and wondered why it had to be him that happened upon her and what on earth he was going to do about it.

 

“Clarke,” he said in his most coaxing voice, “We really need to get you out of here and to a doctor to make sure you’re okay.”

 

She looked at him blankly for a moment before blinking her gorgeous eyes, the lashes looking even thicker and longer because of the tears. He saw denial on her face and she turned back to the door and beat all the harder on it and was rewarded when it gave way. 

 

It creaked open reluctantly and they both peered into the dusty shadows of the entry hall. Mindlessly, Clarke shoved the door open a little farther and stepped into the room; the room that only this morning her grandmother had warned her to watch the weather from.

 

If I had only paid heed to her words.

 

Bellamy was watching her cautiously she realized. He was clearly not happy to be here and wanted to leave this place and she realized that she couldn’t blame him as she looked around the hall. It was covered in littered debris, dust and cobwebs as well as what had to be animal droppings. The beautiful oak parquet floor which had been her mother’s pride was scuffed and warped, and most likely rotting from neglect. She stepped gingerly as the floorboards creaked alarmingly and lifted her skirts a bit to better see where she was stepping.

 

Oh, she must look an absolute mess she decided with disgust, taking in the torn and battered state of her dress, streaked with mud, grass and what surely must be burn marks. A quick glance at Bellamy showed her that he didn’t appear to be paying any attention at all to her dishabille; he seemed much more concerned with her over-all state of confusion. And she was most definitely confused.

 

How can this be? Not 3 hours ago she left this very house, amid farewells from her sisters and father and with her grandmothers concerns about the weather ringing in her ears. Instead of heeding that advice, she had merrily danced through the meadow to find her favorite spot to paint from, never glancing at the swiftly changing sky until it was much too late. And here she was now, in a place that was home, and yet not. 

 

She surreptitiously spared another glance at her companion and realized that he himself was dressed most improperly. He was dressed in breeches that reached his ankles and were made of a strange blue fabric that looked very coarse and rustic. And he was wearing a shirt without a frock coat; the shirt itself had short sleeves that only barely covered his arms past his shoulders and was unbuttoned partially. And for heaven’s sake he wore no cravat or tie about his neck at all! But the shirt was a lovely blue and that made his chocolate brown eyes look even more appealing. The way the shirt clung to his body was certainly in a very advantageous manner. He looked very good indeed, she decided even if she could not comprehend such a manner of attire.

 

His skin was a lovely shade of brown that usually results from being in the sun too long and the freckles that dotted across his face gave him an almost youthful look; she couldn't help but wonder if they were anywhere else on his body. Her grandmother often chided her for exposing herself too long in the sun and then this was followed by a mixture of lemon and buttermilk being applied liberally and often to her skin to try to ‘brighten’ it again. But Bellamy looked very appealing with his browned skin and she decided that it suited him well. His hair was a dark and had a tendency to wave and curl she noticed.

 

She saw something scurry past on the far side of the hall and shivered, but it served to draw her attention back to the room. She knew it well and could imagine coming in from family outings and taking her cloak off and tossing it carelessly over the settee that stood over there, near the stairwell. She knew that Grace, their housekeeper would pick it up and put it away, as she always did for the family. Grace had been with them since before Clarke was born and Clarke loved her dearly. She would be there to cluck in irritation when they tracked in mud upon the spotless floors and then would be just as quick to offer cookies and lemonade to them.

 

What would Grace say now at this horrible state of disrepair?

 

She didn’t recognize the paper that covered the walls and someone had painted the mahogany banister on the broad staircase. Off to the left was a small hallway leading to the parlor, her grandmothers’ private sitting room, the morning room and the dining room, which also connected to the kitchen through this hall. The hallway to the right led to her fathers’ domain; his office, the library and the billiard room and storage areas.

 

She walked slowly to her father’s office and stared in. The door was missing from it and it was an open room now. Missing also was her father’s wonderful mahogany desk that had fascinated her so as a child. It had little drawers everywhere and he would often hide treats in them for the children to find and delight over. Maybe a bit of a sweet that he brought from town or a feather from a bluebird, found while walking through the property. It was always exciting to be allowed to hunt through those drawers as a child and those memories brought another round of salty tears to her eyes, stinging them cruelly. 

 

It was much too painful to see the room as it was and she walked out, purposefully heading toward the stairs, with Bellamy following closely upon her heels. At the bottom of the stairs she took pause for a moment before lifting her skirt in preparation for the climb to the second story of the house. 

 

As she stepped lightly unto the first step, Bellamy reached out and placed a hand over hers that was resting on the banister.

 

“Clarke, I’m not sure you should try to go up there. This stairway looks kind of…rickety I think; it may not be safe.”

 

She studied the staircase again and realized that he was probably correct. Several of the steps were obviously loose and the railing, the previously wonderful and sturdy railing now was wobbly, with several of the balusters missing completely. But she had to go up there; she needed to see what had become of her room, of her life.

 

She couldn’t imagine what was happening here, but she realized that something was drastically wrong. This could not be a trick someone was enjoying; surely it must be a ruse of another sort. 

 

She remembered the strange ‘carriage’ that had brought her here: no horses and yet it moved on its own, with a loud sound certainly, but some sort of mechanical contrivance must be the cause. It had glided over a lane that had only hours before been made of dirt and was now covered with some sort of rock, laid smooth with lines painted upon it.

 

And this house – it IS Roberts Folly and yet it has, well the only word she could think of was – aged. Yes, it had aged, fallen into terrible disrepair. But it is Roberts Folly; there was no doubt of it. Yet floors did not rot and warp in a matter of hours nor did stair railings fall apart so swiftly either. And the trees on grounds – some were huge and others were missing completely.

 

She pressed her hands to her cheeks for a moment to think about all of this. And her conclusions were not possible; and yet what else could this be other than she was in another time?

 

Do not be ridiculous Clarke – that is NOT possible. And yet?

 

She took a deep breath and rapidly headed up the stairs, unmindful of Bellamy’s pleas to stop. Several of the steps groaned loudly as she trod upon them but she kept going; she had to see what was upstairs.

 

As he called out to her to stop, he realized that she wasn’t going to and so he prepared to head up the rickety stairs himself. Throwing caution to the wind with a swiftly muttered “Fuck!”, he muttered as he followed her and tried to ignore the creaking of the steps below his feet. He could only hope that they would hold them. And what about the floor up above, was it in any better condition he wondered as Clarke reached the landing only seconds before him?

 

The second floor was in as bad of shape as the first he decided with a grimace as he looked around the landing. But the floor itself looked solid enough and he fervently hoped it was. Hallways led to the left and the right, as in the lower floor with doors opening from each hall. 

 

Clarke took a few steps toward the right hallway and then suddenly stopped. She glanced over her shoulder at him and then said, “Bellamy, I – I need to do this on my own. Please?” she asked, her blue eyes pleading.

 

He nodded and watched as she moved down the hallway and stopped in front of a doorway. Well, this explains a lot. That must be the room she is staying in and she doesn’t want me to know. Maybe she wants to change clothes or something. 

 

He moved over to some windows at the back of the landing and stood looking out at the unkempt grounds of the estate, his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he absently fiddled with keys and spare change. The vegetation was completely overgrown, the back of the house a tangled mass of long grass and weeds with an uncultivated proliferation of wildflowers and bush thrown in. It had probably been decades since anyone had tried to tame this lawn he decided and he used the term ‘lawn’ with a liberal dose of indulgence. Still, at one time this must have been beautiful. There was a fountain in the back, non-working of course near what once must have been a beautiful gazebo. Stone paths led through the grounds, weaving in and out of copses of trees and he saw what he believed to be a large pond, far in the distance.

 

This must certainly have been quite an estate. I’ll bet it was beautiful in its heyday which must have been what, a hundred years ago? At the very least.

 

He realized that he had been staring out the window for quite some time and he hadn’t heard anything from Clarke. He wanted to give her plenty of time to change, but she had been in there, what, like 20 minutes he thought with a look at his watch. How much damn time could it possibly take?

 

He started to walk towards the room where she had disappeared and then stopped after a few steps, uncertain whether or not to disturb her. He started to turn away to head back to the landing when he heard what might have been a cry or a groan and decided he needed to investigate.

 

So much for a peaceful day, huh Bellamy?

 

With a huge sigh he turned around and re-traced his steps until he was standing in front of the door where Clarke had disappeared. It was partially open and he knocked lightly and then pushed it open slowly. He hoped that she was dressed again, but when he looked in she was still wearing the same costume as before.

 

Maybe it’s something she found in the attics or somewhere else and it’s all that she has to wear.

 

She was standing with her hands clenched at her sides, her breath heaving as if from exertion, except she was standing completely still.

 

“Clarke,” he called softly and then again a bit louder, “Clarke”.

 

She turned to look at him with sightless eyes and then she started walking towards the door rapidly, brushing past him without a word.

 

She couldn’t believe that this was the room that had once belonged to her. Not a shred of evidence existed in that room that she had ever been there before. Not the wall paper, nor the beautiful Persian carpet that had covered the floor, its soft hues of pinks and greens such a delight to her. This room was a stranger’s room and she had to escape as quickly as possible.

 

What if this was not Roberts Folly? That somehow they were at a different house? Was that possible?

 

She heard Bellamy following her down the steps, his rapid pace keeping up with her own. She once again ignored the groans of the steps and headed into the parlor. Again, nothing was as she knew it and Bellamy followed her from room to room, as she navigated her way through the twists and turns of the back hallways. Into the dining room, where there had once been a lovely mural painted on the wall, into the kitchen area which was once separate from the main house, but had been joined by a broad addition. 

 

Room after room, all familiar, yet each one unrecognizable. A strangers home, and yet it was hers. It had to be…

 

As she walked back through the hall on her father’s side of the house she stopped again and stared into the room. Empty, bereft of anything familiar, she turned away in sorrow and started to walk away. And then she thought of something – she did not know if it would still be there, if it could still be there.

 

She went to the large fireplace in the center of the wall. A beautiful marble mantelpiece sat upon the bricks, mellowed to a golden yellow with age. And framing the bricks were sturdy oak pieces, their paint cracked and peeling and chipped in many places. And to the left and right on both sides of the fireplace where bookshelves; shelves that had held the world to the Griffin children. 

 

She went to the right side and ran her fingers lightly over the wooden supports for the bookshelves. Her fingers instinctively sought the marks that were carved into them, for all time their father had declared.

 

Bellamy watched her as she ran her hands over the decaying wood. He couldn’t tell what she was looking for, but it was something important he realized because she was very persistent and thorough in her search. Her hands brushed time after time over a particular place, finally stilling themselves over a certain spot. She turned to him with a smile – a smile that lit up her whole face. It was the first time he had saw her smile and he was enchanted. Her eyes were wide and hopeful, her mouth spread wide in an engaging smile with the corners being upturned slightly. It was a serene smile, a triumphant smile.

 

Gorgeous! A beautiful smile.

 

“Here,” she told him, pointing to a place that was a little higher than the top of her head. “Right here, you can feel it, it is here, it really is!” She reached for his hand and placed it on the spot she indicated but not before she felt a sharp tingling feeling at the contact with his flesh.

 

He felt something close to an electrical current as she pulled his hand closer to the wood she wanted him to touch. He could feel something beneath his fingertips and he stepped closer to see if he could tell what he was feeling. Some word appeared to be carved into the wood. It was almost totally filled in by many coats of paint but it was still there. He got out his handkerchief and rubbed softly at it and a large piece of paint peeled away. He looked closer and could just barely make out some letters.

 

“L – R – and I think a K then an E. I can’t make out the first letter, maybe an ‘G’?”

 

‘How about a ‘C,” she asked softly. “And this one is an ‘A’. C-L-A-R-K-E,” she spelled proudly. “Me, Bellamy, that’s me.”

 

"No, these carvings have been here for decades Clarke. Look how many layers of paint cover them,” he declared.

 

“Yes Bellamy, Clarke. And on that one you’ll find ‘Marcella’ and that one,” she told him pointing to yet another, “that one is ‘Virginia’, ‘Jackson’ and Harrison’,” she told him, indicating others. “My brothers and sisters. All here,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. She went from post to post, trying to feel for the names of her siblings. She could make out Virginia and Jackson, but not Marcella and Harrison. Under her own name she found the markings she was looking for, the markings and dates of each year’s growth. They were done on the Griffin children’s birthdays, lovingly carved into the wood by their father, to mark their progress.

 

Bellamy pulled a pair of nail clippers out of his pocket and tried to gingerly scrape some of the paint away from one of the markings. It was tedious work, trying only to scrape away paint and not damage the markings themselves. 

 

They were neatly carved into the wood though and deep. Bellamy wasn’t sure what type of tool had made the markings, but it wasn’t a nail clipper or even an ordinary pocket knife, that’s for sure he thought.

 

When he had a good deal of the paint away (he was right, there were many layers) he pulled the handkerchief out again and rubbed carefully. It was then that he saw it.

 

‘Clarke. 9 yrs. March 23, 1806’

 

He looked at her, enraged. “Look lady, I don’t know what kind of trick you are trying to play here, but it isn’t going to work!” And then he stormed out of the house and hopped into his car, screeching down the drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter Bellamy runs from what he believes is a plot to get money from the Foundation or possibly that Clarke is crazy. But his conscience won't let him stay away for long and when he returns the state he finds Clarke in is almost comical.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy's frustration continues to grow as he struggles with Clarke's insistence that she is from 1822. However, our knight in shinning armor rescues the princess once again from a really muddy situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thanks so very much to all who leaves kudo's and comments. It helps to feed an authors imagination and joy._

Clarke watched as Bellamy rushed out of the house and got into his carriage. He sat there, his hands resting upon the steering device for a moment before the alarming sound was heard again and the carriage moved off, down the drive. She saw Bellamy cast a quick look out the window and the carriage turned around and headed back out to the lane.

 

He was angry, she could see that and perhaps she really didn’t blame him either. All of this, this entire day was nothing but madness and she didn’t know what to make of it. She sat down on the step of the porch dejectedly, her face resting on hands, elbows on bent knees and thought back to all that had happened this day.

 

Somehow she was not home any longer. Oh, she was at Roberts Folly, but it was no longer home. Very few traces of the former beauty of this house existed now and she could only assume that it would not be possible for her to find her way back to that world.

 

Clarke was very pragmatic, she always had been. It was a strong trait of many New Englander’s; it was what sustained them during hard times. And this, she admitted to herself was certainly a hard time. She ached for her family and home, the home she knew and loved. Instead she had her home, but a different home entirely and no family whatsoever. And since she did not know how long she would be in this place, she must find a way to exist here.

 

She decided to walk around to the back and see if the gardens were still there, although she admitted they must surely be over-grown, judging by the disgraceful state of the house itself. There had been a large vegetable garden that grew there; it fed the family and servants and so she hoped that possibly the remnant of that existed. As she walked around the house, she decided it could be made habitable again, with willing hands to do the work. It still seemed sound enough of structure, if you paid little heed to the stairs that is.

 

She wondered if she could indeed be in the future, as it seemed. If so, how many years in the future did she walk now? Twenty, fifty? Things had changed incredibly; it surely must be at least fifty she decided. 

 

I wonder what has happened to my family.

 

Even as she thought about the possibility of her being in the future, she realized how unlikely it was, how impossible. And yet, here she was, in a time where carriage’s moved about without horses and seat belt harnesses held one into it. Oh, and lights lit themselves magically as well she thought as she remembered the carriage. But the sounds it made! The noise it produced while moving and the alarming bell when she had opened the door! Who thought up such sounds as these? They were not at all pleasing to the senses.

 

She carefully made her way around the house, picking her way around over-grown areas so dense that there was no way to go through them. A particularly wild patch of thickets caught at her dress and tore it severely; there would not likely be a way to mend it she decided with a frown. She must be more careful as this was the only gown she had now.

 

Other immediate needs were starting to be a bit more pressing; she very much needed a drink of water because she was starting to feel a bit light-headed as the heat of the day rose. And soon she would have need of a privy and she didn’t see one back here any longer. It mattered not because it probably would not be one she would want to use she thought in disgust as she saw just how unkempt the grounds were. 

 

It was all a disorganized tangle of weeds and grasses; there was no sign of the garden anywhere – any garden. Not the vegetable gardens or her grandmothers prize rose gardens, the herb gardens, none were to be seen anywhere. She walked further and found the fountain, but it did not seem to work any longer. She tried desperately to turn the valve on, once she had dug out the vegetation around it, cutting her hands in the process on the prickly bushes, but no water sprang from the cherubs. She remembered the fountain, and wading through it on hot summer days such as this, the water feeling icy cold to her bare feet. She pushed her hair up off of her face, wondering where the pins that held it up had gotten to. Then a brief memory of the kiss in the carriage brought a bright flush to her face and she tried hastily to forget that memory.

 

In the warmth and humidity, her hair was clinging damply to her face and as she reached again to push her hair back she saw just how badly scratched her hands were; they were bleeding and several spots needed immediate attention. She tried to wipe some of the blood off onto her ruined gown and left large patches of smeared blood behind her. She didn’t realize that she had also left bright red patches of blood on her face as well.

 

Surely the lake was still there, or at least she hoped it would be. She could get a drink and wash up a bit there and she headed in that direction, past the remnants of the gazebo. She only glanced at it in passing; now was not the time to be caught up in other sad memories. She needed to take care of her needs right now.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bellamy was feeling very bad about his behavior. True, he had a right to be angry; she was trying to trick him. He couldn’t figure out why, but it had to be a trick of some kind; probably with the goal of getting money from him. The Foundation was well-known and so was his family name; both were associated with money. He supposed she had heard about his trip here and had planned the whole thing. What was wrong with someone just working at a job? She looked healthy enough and seemed to be educated, he was sure she must be able to get a job. 

 

He remembered her eyes, their sapphire depths gazing at him, trusting. Damn! He would have sworn there was innocence and sincerity in those eyes. People can hide deception and fraud many ways but the eyes usually didn’t lie. Hers were beautiful, guileless eyes that drew you in.

 

Yes dammit, eyes that drew you in. It was all an elaborate ruse, it had to be! She could not have lived in that house that morning. Even though it was a derelict, no one had been in there for years; there probably wasn’t any running water and there certainly wasn’t any electricity since he had tried a switch. There was no bedding anywhere that he saw, no signs at all of habitation and with all the dust that covered everything, footsteps would have been noticeable. When they came back down the stairs he had clearly saw their footprints on the hall floor. 

 

Still, she had been truly shocked when she saw the place; he didn’t believe she could fake that strong of a reaction. No, she was clearly devastated when she saw the house.

 

But where did that leave her? Is she mentally ill he wondered; has she possibly walked away from some institution and came to a place she remembered from childhood? Or thought she remembered? He thought about her panicked walk through the house – she had known exactly where those twisting hallways led; her steps were confident, never wavering.

 

No, she knew those halls; she knew that house. And how do you explain the markings on the bookshelves? The names, the dates? The dates Bellamy, think about the dates; dates that couldn’t be real. And yet… Or she wasn’t Clarke, or at least that Clarke. But they certainly seemed real and the decades of paint on them had seemed pretty real as well while he had been trying to scrape them off. 

 

So okay, maybe she was a Clarke; maybe she had saw that house before and made up this whole story about living there. She must be mentally ill; she had to be.

 

But what if she wasn’t? If that was the case, she must be trying to scam him. She couldn’t possibly be old enough to be that Clarke. What did that leave he wondered? Time travel? Sure, he thought with a groan and a roll of his eyes. 

 

He had pulled the car over to the side of the road as he thought about all of this. He didn’t know what to do. If she were mentally ill, well she obviously needed help. If she weren’t, she was trying to scam him and he needed to stay away. But if neither of those were the case, then she just might genuinely need help. She could have been seriously injured by that lightning this morning; maybe it really was a case of amnesia or something, in which case she needed to be seen by a doctor.

 

He decided to head back. For better or worse, he had to know what was going on.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It was more difficult than Clarke had thought it would be, getting to the lake. The stone pathways that were so dear and familiar to her were overgrown or missing altogether and all but impossible to pass. More than one bush tore at her dress and her hands were once again bleeding as she tried to move pass natures stubborn obstacles. Her hair was once again hanging down over her face and neck and she truly did feel close to fainting from the heat and exertion of the walk to the lake.

 

She finally made it but before she could even see it she could smell it. And it was not a pleasant smell. When she got close enough to see it there was filth and scum floating all over the surface. What on earth had gotten into the water? She was trying to make her way close to it to investigate further when she slipped and fell on the spongy, marshy mess. Her bottom sank into smelly mud and something sharp poked her leg. She reached down and picked up a piece of glass that said ‘Wild Turkey’ on it. 

 

What on earth is that, she wondered. Her leg was now bleeding as well she noticed.

 

Good heavens, what else can happen?

 

She tried to rise to her feet and slipped again, her whole body hitting the squishy ground yet again. The odiferous mud seemed to be sucking at her body she thought in frustration. But she would NOT cry she decided. Absolutely not. And neither would she drink or bathe in that water.

 

She rolled over onto her stomach and tried to get to her knees that way, but the muddy ground was so slick that her feet could not stay still long enough for her to stand up. She lay there for a moment and tried to regain some of her composure. She truly was feeling a bit fainter every moment and she knew she desperately needed to find water. It was at least cool here, lying in the slimy mud. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a few deep breaths.

 

She thought she heard her name. She lay there with her eyes closed and pretended for a moment that she was back home, the correct home and it was Marcella or Ginnie calling her name. Ah, to be back home... 

 

“Clarke! Clarke,” the voice grew louder and she realized it was not Marcella or Ginnie. It was a male voice but not that of her father or brothers. Then she realized it was Bellamy. He had come back for her.

 

She tried to sit up and call out to him, but again the mud pulled her down. In the end it was her outraged voice that guided Bellamy to her; he could hear her, using words that were not often uttered by ladies, in his time or, well, whenever. And a few of them he really didn’t recognize at all.

 

He found her trying to rise from the mud, her dress covered by it. And then he noticed blood – everywhere. Her leg seemed to be cut and was bleeding freely, even with all the mud that covered it. Her hands as well were scratched and torn and there was blood all over her face. He couldn’t imagine how she had gotten so battered and torn since he had left. He wondered briefly if someone had done this to her, but that was unlikely he realized.

 

She was still outraged and frustrated when he got to her and after worrying about the blood for a moment, he almost laughed at her predicament. She was a sorry and bedraggled mess and she couldn’t get to her feet in this slimy jumble of trash and muddy water; and, what was that smell anyway?

 

He bent down and picked her up, almost losing his own balance in the muck and mire. Her face reddened with indignation as he smiled at her.

 

“Hi! I think I get to rescue a damsel for the second time today!” he laughed, suddenly seeing the humor in the situation.

 

“How dare you speak to me in such a manner? There is no cause for your laughter sir, it is most disagreeable. I beg you stop immediately,” she commanded him, her face only inches from his own.

 

“Hey, I’d watch how you speak to me lady, I can put you down any time, okay?” he told her and she realized he was serious.

 

She held tightly to him; she did not want to end back up in that mud. But how could he speak to her so? He was certainly no gentleman, no, not at all she decided. He was however her only chance for getting out of here at this moment and intelligence won over outrage; she closed her mouth and refused to speak again.

 

With amusement he watched the many emotions play across her face. He saw sense finally win out over anger and she closed her mouth sharply and the frown that she now wore was almost comical. And laughing at her again would definitely not help the situation, so Bellamy ducked his head momentarily to hide the quick smile and compose his face.

 

He cautiously made his way around the obstacles that the over-grown grounds presented and was breathing heavily from the exertion by the time they were back in front of the house. He sat her down gingerly and said, “You’re a lot heavier than you look!”

 

He saw her hand come up and instinctively grabbed it a moment before she slapped him again. “Now Clarke, I realize I must bring out the worst in you, but there is no reason to keep hitting me, okay?” And then he cautiously took a couple of steps back away from her, out of arms reach. His cheek still smarted from the earlier slap he thought as he rubbed it absentmindedly.

 

Her body was rigid with anger; back ramrod stiff and it would have been amusing to see someone standing that straight if she didn’t look so damn bedraggled and bloody. They needed to get her cleaned up quickly he realized; that mud hadn’t smelled good at all and he was frankly concerned about why it smelled so bad and what that might do to open wounds.

 

“Okay, we need to get into the car and get you to Archer House and see about getting you cleaned up and a doctor out to look at you, okay?”

 

Her ears picked up at the words Archer House! Her mother was an Archer and that meant family!

 

“Alright sir, you may accompany me to Archer House.” 

 

She didn’t realize how formal and commanding her tone and voice sounded he guessed. Maybe it was a way of preserving what little bit of dignity she had left. He inwardly laughed then; who was he kidding, she didn’t have a shred of dignity left he decided as he took in her appearance. If she was playing a game with him, she was taking it a bit too far; she must have at some point come from a family with money he decided.

 

‘Well okay then Princess, let’s get in the car,” he told her, heading to the BMW and opening the door for her. He watched as her face once again flushed bright red and her eyes narrowed into a sharp gaze that was almost painful to see; likely from his teasing name for her.

 

With a huff of irritation she once again took a seat in this ‘car’ and waited while he tucked her skirts in and shut the door. She couldn’t help but notice how he wiped his hands on his breeches before he got into the car himself. She already had her ‘seat belt’ fastened by the time he had climbed in and sat primly in her seat, hands folded in her lap while waiting for the car to make the roaring sound again.

 

Bellamy turned the key and the car did indeed roar to life, along with the CD player which was playing music very loudly. Her hands immediately covered her ears and she exclaimed “What is that sound?” 

 

“Bon Jovi!” It obviously distressed her; she must not be a rock fan he decided, probably classical he’d bet. Bach, Mozart, those would probably be about her speed. If he had only realized then how correct he was.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

During the ride to Archer House Clarke held tightly to the edges of the seat. She had never been in a carriage that moved so swiftly. They seemed to be flying down this ‘road’ as he called this lane. Other cars came towards them on the road and the first time she sharply drew her breath in as it approached; it was traveling as rapidly as they were and she was sure they would collide. But it and all the others passed them safely and it seemed she need not be concerned about that. 

Along the road many things had changed; there were large pictures painted on what surely must be huge pieces of canvas. And they depicted things she knew nothing of – drink Coca Cola, try World Wide Cellular Service. What on earth were these things anyway? And there were many houses along the road, but they were strange looking and very small. 

It was but 6 miles to Archer House from Robert’s Folly and the trip took very little time at their great rate of speed. By the time they entered the drive way to the great house she was again pale and it wasn’t totally from the frightening ride. She very badly needed water to drink and a privy. Yes, she needed that privy quickly she thought as she squirmed in her seat.

Bellamy saw how pale she had grown on the ride and it was saying a lot that he could notice what with all the mud and blood that were on her face. He shook his head as he pulled the car to a stop and wondered how on earth to explain all this to Miller!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is totally confused by the modern contrivances that she encounters. And why on earth would Bellamy be trying to poison her? Chapter 5 will be rough for both of them so come along for the ride!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Archer House is a complete surprise to Clarke; the wonders within it were quite unsettling to her and she couldn't contain her sorrow to find that no Archer's lived there any longer. Bellamy is still somewhere between being confuse by her behavior and being irritated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for the comments and kudos! I feel so blessed by them and it makes moving the story on that much more fun.

As Bellamy pulled into the long and winding drive to Archer House Clarke sighed in relief. It did not look very different from the last time she had saw it, only this Christmas past. It was still the same pale rose colored brick and the shutters and doors were still stark white. They always managed to look freshly painted and that made her smile. So many times in the summers she and her cousins and siblings had sat out under the maples and watched the servants white wash them. She glanced over to where the grove of maples should be and finally noticed something different; they were no longer there. Instead, a large area stood, covered again with some type of stone and with white lines on it and a fence of some sort across the middle. It was altogether ugly and she could not imagine why they would want to destroy the maple grove for it. Maybe it is something important she decided.

 

Roberts Folly was a large house. Not quite a mansion, but a very respectable home, but Archer House put it to shame Bellamy decided. They were both built of the same style, probably from the same era in fact, but Archer House was much larger; it was a mansion. A mansion with style in fact. As he pulled up under the portico he honked the horn several times and this caused Clarke to let out a small, scared scream and then quickly clap her hand over her mouth. He shook his head in amazement, amused by all the little things that seemed to spook her and then got out of the car. He was around it and had Clarke’s door open by the time Mrs. Burton, the housekeeper had the door open and was making her way to the car.

 

“My goodness gracious Mr. Bellamy, what has happened to the young lady? Did you hit her with the car?” She clucked in distress as Clarke tried to stand up and her knees immediately buckled beneath her. Bellamy came to her rescue one more time, sweeping her up and carrying her up the steps into the hall way.

 

As soon as they were inside she said, “Please put me down Bellamy. I am sure I am of too considerable amount of weight for you to carry me.” She eyed him with one eyebrow quirked upwards that was accompanied by a distinct tilt upwards of her chin. Bellamy realized she was taunting him.

 

He sat her down and stared at her, all 5’5 or so and maybe 120 pounds of her and that was when she was covered with half that damn swamp. A quick retort came to mind, but he snapped his mouth closed before he could make it; it would only serve to stir up more trouble he was sure.

 

She looked around the great hall and while the lovely black and white marble floor still existed, most of the other attributes from the hall were missing. She stood there, shifting from foot to foot as she looked around. She did not want to mention aloud that she needed the privy, especially when a man was present, but she didn’t have the option of waiting any longer.

 

“Excuse me please, but I – I need to use the um, privy. Is that permissible?” and she immediately started walking towards the back of the hall, heading for the outside doors to the courtyard that she remembered. 

 

Bellamy and Mrs. Burton looked at one another quizzically and finally Mrs. Burton said, “Certainly miss, but where are you going? The uh, bathroom is this way,” she said, catching up with Clarke and leading her down a short hallway and standing her in front of a doorway. Mrs. Burton was very confused about Clarke’s reference to ‘privy’ yet she did know that it was an archaic reference to an outhouse. 

 

The girl stood there in front of the door, clearly confused about where to go. She looked at Mrs. Burton, panic showing on her face. She knew that she had only moments before she would no longer be able to control her bodily urges. But this was a storage room and she wasn’t certain why she was expected to go in here.

 

“In here miss, through this door.” She opened the door and stood aside so that Clarke could enter the room. 

 

Clarke entered the room and stood inside the door, panic on her face. She couldn’t imagine why they would want her to use this room, although she couldn’t see anything in it. But it didn’t smell like a privy and she was sure they hadn’t understood her.

 

“I – I don’t understand. In here?” she asked, trying to look around her in the darkness.

 

“Yes miss, here just turn on the light,” and Mrs. Burton reached into the room and touched something on a wall and the room was filled with light.

 

“Oh,” Clarke exclaimed, then turned to look about her. She had to learn to control her surprise otherwise someone would soon start to question her. “Thank you Mrs. Burton, I will be fine now.” As she stood there, Mrs. Burton noticed how she shifted from foot to foot again and realized the young lady had to go very badly, so she stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her.

 

She went out to where Bellamy was standing and remarked, “That’s the oddest thing I’ve even seen Mr. Bellamy; she didn’t seem to know what to do in there. It’s like she never saw a bathroom before!” She shook her head sadly as she wondered about the young lady.

 

“She was hurt earlier Mrs. Burton. Possibly struck by lightning. Can we get a doctor to come out here? And get a room for her so she can bathe; she fell into some very pungent mud and I’m sure it needs to be washed off of her as quickly as possible.”

 

“Certainly. How sad for the young lady. She certainly seems very confused Mr. Bellamy. I’ll call old Dr. Herbert immediately. I’m sure he’ll come out, given the circumstances.” She immediately headed off, probably to the study to find the doctor’s number, leaving Bellamy to stand in the hall, waiting for Clarke to return.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Clarke stood quietly in the indoor privy for a moment, taking in all the unknown features of it. There was a commode which held a sink that actually had handles on it. And the other feature in the room seemed to be the privy itself. It looked like it could be anyway. It had a seat upon it, but there was water in the bottom of it. Surely she was not expected to use this? How would someone carry the remains outside?

 

Finally, she knew she could not wait any longer and hoped only to beg ignorance for making a mess in this bowl of water. She sat down and finished her business quickly, a smile upon her face. It was cool and pleasant in this privy and for a moment she just sat there and enjoyed it. But the light-headedness returned when she stood up, much too quickly. She lost her balance and her hand reached behind her to steady her and landed on something that gave way; water started rushing madly though the privy. And as she stood and watched, it all ran away, down to somewhere unseen. She realized she must have caused this to happen when she stumbled. As she examined the back of the privy, she spied a lever; that is what she must have fallen against. She pushed at it and again it gave way and the water started rushing through the privy. “My goodness,” she exclaimed out loud.

 

She looked at the commode with the sink built right into it. It had a hole in the bottom of it to drain away the water. How clever she decided. She started playing with one of the handles and soon had water rushing out of a spigot. She stuck her hand under the running water and just as quickly withdrew it with a muttered curse. It was very hot water and she had nearly scalded her already scratched and torn hands. And she must certainly try to control her tongue; her grandmother would be so ashamed to hear Clarke utter words that she had only heard her older brother’s use. Sailor’s language her grandmother called it. But sometimes it was the only words that seemed to fit a situation and today was certainly one of those days she decided.

 

A quick twist of the other handle proved to be cold water and she splashed it over her hands with joy. She wondered if it were safe to drink, but decided she dare not chance it so she contented herself with the pleasure of the water on her hands. Now that much of the mud was off of them she saw that along with the scratches she also had several deeper cuts that might very well require the physician to stitch them closed. She had never had stitches in her body, but she had watched once while Harrison had his leg sown up and he had passed out from the pain.

 

_No, that was something she was not looking forward to at all!_

 

There was also a large mirror in the room and Clarke stared at herself. She looked terrible she decided; truly frightful. Her grandmother would be appalled – she herself was horrified in truth. Her hair was a tangled mess with bits of the earth stuck in it, leaves, twigs and parts of it covered with the dried muck near the lake. Her face was covered in mud and blood and she also noticed that it was quite reddened by the long exposure to the mid-day sun. 

 

_Oh Clarke, you do look a fright!_

 

And she must admit sadly that as bad as her face and hair looked, they were infinitely better looking than her clothes. Just disgraceful she realized, torn asunder and what was not torn was covered in more mud and debris. She hoped that the servants would have time to carry a bath up to a room for her and that some spare clothing might be found. She did not expect anything fine, but something that was not quite so disreputable would work nicely.

 

After one last attempt to smooth her hair back into place she reluctantly turned away from the mirror and opened the door. She inspected the wall where the housekeeper had made the light come by her simple touch and found a curious knob on it. She reached out to touch it and it moved under her fingers and the light in the room immediately was gone. Curious, she moved it again and there was light!

 

_What an amazing place this is, water that carries waste away and lights that work so easily. No messing with candles or oil to provide the light. Truly astounding._

 

With one final flip of the knob, the light was again extinguished and she stepped out into the hall and made her way back to the great hall where she found Bellamy waiting for her. Since she now realized how very ill she looked, she found herself even more embarrassed than before, but there was naught that could be done about it, so she tried to present herself in the least objectionable manner as was possible.

 

“Clarke, you, um, are feeling better now?” Bellamy asked, noticing that she had washed most of the mud and blood off of her hands at least. She was again holding her body in the most rigid manner; back bone uncompromisingly straight and her hands were folded before her; quite prim and proper. Which seemed ridiculous considering her present state.

 

“Yes, I am quite fine, thank you. I find it quite improper for me to be addressing you so informally. Pray sir, please tell me your surname so that I might address you properly.”

 

Her brilliant blue eyes met his brown ones and they were suddenly very formal and would not hold his gaze at all Bellamy realized. He wasn’t sure at all what to say to her. Did she really think it was necessary to call him Mr. Blake? Now, after all that had happened? He thought of the kiss they had shared, how he had ached with passion for her and of how her body trembled in his arms. He did not understand her at all; almost everything that she had done had been restrained, from that kiss to her embarrassment over needing to use the bathroom. What kind of a home had she been raised in that was so formal he wondered.

 

“Uh, Clarke is that necessary? I am quite happy for you to call me Bellamy. One look at her determined gaze and he mentally shrugged in irritation. 

 

“Yes sir, I believe it is necessary. We have not yet been properly introduced; it is unseemly that we address one another by our given names.”

 

Bellamy couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he wondered what this ploy was about. But he could be a good sport and who knew, it might prove amusing. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

 

“Well then, Miss Griffin was it?” At her nod of assent he continued, “My name is Bellamy Blake. There now, we are properly introduced.” He offered her his hand and she reached out for his, only with her fingers extended downward, as if he was expected to kiss her hand or something. At the same time she curtsied slightly and inclined her head as well. 

He took her fingers and clasped them briefly, not sure what she expected and then cleared his throat. “Well, uh, Miss Griffin then, Mrs. Burton has gone to call the doctor. Hopefully he can come to see you and we won’t have to make a trip to the hospital for you.”

 

At those words Clarke blanched and her knees threatened to give way totally. Good God, did he think her infirmity so serious that she was to die? One did not make a trip to the hospital otherwise, unless the illness was dire. She felt her heart beating erratically and she placed her palm over it in order to will it to slow down. And was the doctor so near, on the estate that Mrs. Burton had merely to call out to him? How fortunate that they had a physician so near! She took a few deep breaths in order to regain her composure and prayed that her infirmity was not quite so grave as Mr. Blake suspected.

 

“I find that I need to be seated Mr. Blake. I – I would very much like to have a drink of water; I feel quite parched. Would that be possible do you think?”

 

“Certainly Cla – Miss Griffin. Please follow me into the kitchen and we’ll take care of both problems.” He started in the direction of the back of the house and Clarke followed behind, looking around her at all the changes to Archer House.

 

“Pray tell me Mr. Blake, is Mr. Archer at home?”

 

“I’m afraid there is no Mr. Archer any longer Miss Griffin. My friend, Miller, actually Nathan Miller, but we call him Miller owns the house. It was purchased from the Archer family by his great-grandfather after he lost both sons in the war I believe.” 

 

As he spoke they stepped into the ‘kitchen’ although it was not easily recognizable to Clarke as that room. Oh, there were cupboards and tables and a large sink on one side, but nowhere did she see any ovens that would certainly be necessary to feed the family and servants of this estate. How on earth did they prepare meals she wondered? 

 

Bellamy went to a cabinet and opened it and reached for a glass for her. “Would you like ice?” he asked, looking at her questioningly.

 

"Heavens, they can afford ice in the summer season? Certainly, yes!” She was amazed. She hadn’t known anyone wealthy enough to be able to keep ice at this time of year. She watched as Mr. Blake approached a large sort of cupboard with two long doors on it. He held the glass to a recess in one of them and soon ice was tumbling out of it, straight into the glass! Oh my, how wondrous she thought. And then he moved the glass over and it was filled with water, as if by magic. 

 

He carried the glass of ice water over and sat it on a large table which was situated on one side of the room, near large windows that looked out over the lawn. “Please Miss. Griffin, have a seat.” He indicated a chair sitting at the table, but made no move to hold it for her. 

 

She debated for a moment about whether to chastise him for his manners but thirst soon won out and she went to pull the chair out herself. It was covered in a shiny flowered fabric and she stood looking at it for a moment, indecision plainly showing on her face.

 

“Is there a problem, Miss Griffin?” he asked, wondering what the problem was.

 

“I do not wish to defile these lovely chairs, with my soiled clothing. I could go outside to sit. That would be perfectly fine.”

 

“Nonsense, they’re vinyl – they wash right off. Please, Miss Griffin, have a seat!” he directed and she could not help but notice a tone of frustration in his voice. He stood there impatiently waiting for her to sit down and she cast one last look at the chair and hoped that he was correct and that the fabric would not be ruined. She finally sat down gingerly, perched on the edge of the chair, back again ramrod stiff. Bellamy sighed.

 

She sat primly, waiting for Mr. Blake to seat himself so that she might sip her water. She cast a questioning look at him, wondering why he still stood. She had to admit, he certainly lacked in manners! She then cast her look to another chair and apparently he finally understood. He sat down then and waited for her to drink her water.

 

She finally took a cautious sip of the water, finding it cold and very refreshing. Another sip followed and then another. Bellamy laid a cautious hand over hers to still it when she went to raise it again for another drink. “Please Miss Griffin, sip slowly. Too much so quickly will probably make you sick. You don’t want that I’m sure!” He smiled at her to try to lessen her confusion.

 

“Is this water unsafe in some manner? Should I not drink it?” Why on earth would he provide her with water that was unfit to drink she wondered. She quickly sat the glass onto the table and folded her hands into her lap, watching him expectantly.

 

Bellamy sighed again, a huge sigh full of frustration and growing aggravation. Why did she always have to assume the worst? Now she thought he was trying to poison her for God’s sake? What next?

 

It was going to be a very interesting afternoon he thought grimly. Very interesting indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarke got the hang of the bathroom, but how will she deal with a bathtub when she is shown to one? And poor Bellamy gets into more trouble with her as he has to deal with the repercussions of a not totally successful bathing experience. All of that ahead in Chapter 6.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just a bath! How can it go so wrong? *Wink Wink* Can Bellamy move past his suspicions about her or will things just get more complicated?

Bellamy ran his hands through his hair, smoothing it back from his face. The gesture provided him a moment to compose his expression which he greatly needed. He closed his eyes briefly and tried to think of how to approach this. She seemed to be suspecting him of all kinds of tricks, but hell, he thought the same thing about her. How could she possibly be so naive about things? This act of feigned ignorance was wearing very thin for Bellamy and the sooner they got past it the better off for them all. He didn’t understand what she hoped to gain by it all – other than money perhaps.

 

He had completely forgotten that he had been convinced earlier that she must be hurt, but the thought came to him again that surely that must be the explanation for all this. If not, she was mentally ill, there was no other way to account for her lack of knowledge and the fear she seemed to constantly be feeling. With one more deep breath he looked up at her again. She was still sitting there silently, looking down at her hands. He thought he saw her lower lip trembling slightly, but he wasn’t at all sure of it; again, that could be faked.

 

Clarke’s mind was racing as she sat there waiting for him to speak. He would not give her water from a well that was not safe. Why would he do that, it made no sense. And the water seemed to be there for everyone to drink and if it were bad, surely that would not be the case.

 

“Clarke – Miss Griffin,” he began, apologetically adding her surname quickly. “Miss Griffin, the water is fine – you however are not. I suspect you might possibly be a bit dehydrated, so putting very much cold water into your stomach could make you retch. Do you understand that?”

 

She did not entirely understand his words, but she thought she understood what he was trying to tell her. “So – so I should just sip it slowly, to give my stomach time to adjust to it? Is that what you mean Mr. Blake?”

 

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean; just sip slowly please. You have been through enough today; you don’t need any other problems.”

 

Mrs. Burton came into the room at that moment and said, “Dr. Herbert will be here as soon as possible. The traffic coming out at this time of day can be difficult you know. Now Miss Griffin, may I fix you something to eat?”

 

“Mrs. Burton, I’m not sure she should eat until Dr. Herbert has examined her. I’m a bit hesitant to let her have the water. You just never know how a body will react to an injury and that lightning had to be very powerful. I know it seems to have uh, addled her a bit I think.”

 

Clarke scowled at him; she most certainly was _not_ addled. Her head was perfectly fine thank you very much! Did he think her lean of all her senses? Clearly he must and it was time for that impression to be finished. Her wits were perfectly acceptable; it was his rude and unmannerly behavior that was causing her distress!

 

“Mr. Blake, my head is perfectly fine, I assure you. My wits are not ‘addled’ nor is my head injured in any way. If I am confused about this situation is it because I am exceedingly puzzled by your rude and boorish manner. I have not been treated as a young lady of my rank deserves; I am not the daughter of an impoverished shop keeper you know. My family owns the Griffin Mills and my father is established as an honorable businessman in this community. I dare say you forget that, or possibly you have not been taught proper manners by your parents, but I most certainly demand that you exhibit them now in this unfortunate situation. I will not stand for anything less!”

 

Bellamy and Mrs. Burton stared doubtfully at her; what was she talking about, Griffin Mills? Bellamy had never heard of it and she was acting like it was famous for heaven’s sake. 

 

Understanding slowly dawned on Mrs. Burton’s face, but she was now more than ever concerned for the young lady. “Miss, the mills closed, oh, it must be going on 50 years or more ago. And there are no Griffin’s left in this area any longer. Are you trying to tell us you are related to those Griffin’s?”

 

Panic was starting to rise within Clarke. Over 50 years ago? Her heart was again beating exceedingly rapidly and she had a difficult time catching her breath. Surely not that long ago, surely not. Her family gone from this area? Did that mean dead or left for somewhere else? Even if it were 50 years or so, surely her brothers or sisters must still be alive? 

 

_Oh Dear God, let them still be alive because what was to happen to her if they were not?_

 

The realization that they might not be seemed to deflate her, emotionally and physically. She seemed to literally shrink right in front of Bellamy and Mrs. Burton and they both reached for her and she pulled sharply back from them; both of them. She faced them with wounded eyes; deep blue in color now, eyes that only moments before been full of spark had now lost all of their fire, their confidence, only to be replaced by what looked like hopelessness Mrs. Burton thought.

 

Bellamy thought that even though it was obviously painful for her to know that the story she had been depending on was out in the open and no longer plausible that it was best for her; now she could be straight with them and they could get their answers. That was the only way they could really help her and he did believe that she needed help. But as he watched her, she seemed to take on a whole new character and suddenly he saw that she was okay.

 

 _Clarke, you will not let this defeat you!_

 

She could go back to Roberts Folly and make it work. It still seemed to be sound and yes, it would take a great deal of back-breaking work to make it livable again, but she could do it; certainly she could. She would have to. The fear that had clouded her eyes began to fade and was replaced by determination and perhaps a bit of desperation as well. In a way it was what she always wanted to happen; that she not be obliged to marry and could take care of her own life, her own needs. Yes, this is exactly what she had always wanted; possibly not exactly like this, but she certainly had always craved independence and this would be her opportunity. She would rise above it, she had to; her very existence depended upon it.

 

She sat there, back totally stiff and unbending, refusing to looked beaten though and Bellamy admired that a great deal. She had spirit, that was for sure and he was positive her intelligence was above average; it had to be to conceive of this plan to begin with. Still, this was all going to be difficult he decided. He refused to let himself continue to think and wonder why this had invaded his peaceful day, the day he had needed badly.

 

_Things happen for a reason Bellamy. It’s all a riddle and you will figure it out, eventually anyway._

 

“Well Miss Griffin,” Mrs. Burton began, “How about I take you upstairs into a guest room and you can take a bath while we wait for Dr. Herbert to arrive?” She stood up and waited for Clarke to respond.

 

She seemed very kind Clarke thought and the idea of a bath was very appealing. She nodded and smiled at Mrs. Burton and said, “Yes, I should like that very much, if it’s not too much trouble that is.” She hadn’t seen any other servants around her and she hoped that Mrs. Burton didn’t have to carry all that water herself, but she longed for a bath, desperately in fact.

 

Mrs. Burton shook her head and responded, “No Miss, it’s no trouble at all. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you up.” She wore a puzzled look on her face at Clarke’s curious words, but still, whether she thought she had or did not have a head injury; Mrs. Burton thought it very likely that she did. She just didn’t seem to be too sharp! The housekeeper cast a quizzical glance at Bellamy on the way out of the room with Clarke following her closely.

 

Bellamy sat back in his chair as they left the room. He stretched out his long legs and crossed his arms over his chest as he thought back over this very trying day. And he hadn’t even told Miller or Mercedes yet!

 

_______________________________________

 

 

As Clarke followed Mrs. Burton up the broad staircase she was not sure what to expect. So far, although the house was familiar to her, things had changed a great deal. The family portrait gallery was at the top of the stairs, but probably would not be there still, at least as she remembered it. There would be no reason for this family to have portraits of another. She certainly hoped they would be there though – there was an extended family portrait that her father, mother and siblings were in, as well as herself. She needed to see that portrait, she needed to see at least one familiar thing or she felt as if she might go quite insane.

Along the gallery, there were no familiar family portraits. Oh, there were displayed many fine paintings to be sure, but not of people; they were mostly landscapes. Some of them were quite good in fact; the detail of them astonishing. She stopped briefly to observe one of them that she admired; the brush strokes were so fine as to be non-existent. Truly wonderful she decided and then hurried to catch up to Mrs. Burton who was turning down the hallway that lead to the family wing, which Clarke thought was a curious place to put her.

“Is this not the family wing Mrs. Burton?” 

She was clearly puzzled the housekeeper noticed. “Well, we don’t exactly have a ‘family wing’ Miss Griffin. Most of the rooms are on this hallway. The far wing,” she nodded in the other direction, “well, that is closed off for the most part. It saves on heating and cooling costs you know.” The housekeeper stopped in front of the room that had belonged to her cousin Bree and opened the door so that Clarke could enter. 

Clarke hesitated for a moment before actually stepping in the room. When her cousin was here it was done in pale blues, with dark Louis the XIV furniture; a fairy tale room actually. When she peeked in finally she was met with a beautiful room done in lovely yellow’s; every color of yellow imaginable from the brilliant gold-yellows of the sun to the pale lemons. It took her breath away and her hand covered her mouth in enchantment. It was lovely, totally lovely and so much nicer than it had ever been. Bree would be so jealous she thought with a grin.

The furniture itself was of a pale golden oak, rubbed smooth by time and in a style that she did not recognize; but no matter, it was divine. “Oh Mrs. Burton, this room is beautiful!” she exclaimed as she walked around it, lightly touching the silk duvet on the bed, it’s splendor so great it almost hurt her eyes.

“I’m glad you like it Miss. The bathroom is through there. Do you require any assistance? And shall I send up some tea while you are bathing? I’m sure some tea wouldn’t harm you any.”

 

Clarke looked at her blankly for a moment. How was she to get water if no one assisted her? Maybe they would bring the water when they brought the tea, so she told Mrs. Burton that tea would be lovely and the housekeeper nodded. She went to a closet and pulled a lovely dressing gown out and handed it to Clarke. 

 

“Here you are Miss Griffin; I think this should fit you alright. If you’ll just get out of those, uh, clothes we’ll see if we can find you something else to wear when you get out of the bath. Will that be alright?”

 

“Yes Mrs. Burton that will be fine. I do not think these garments will ever be serviceable again. I am sorry to trouble you so greatly.”

 

“Yes, well enjoy your bath. There are soaps and shampoos in the cabinet by the tub.” She nodded again towards the door that led to the ‘bathroom’ and then left the bed chamber, pulling the door closed behind her.

 

Clarke walked into the bathroom and immediately felt the wall near the door for the knob that would bring light to the room. When she had found it and turned it on, bright light flooded the room and she was amazed to find a bathing tub that seemed to be built right into the wall. And it had more of those handles on it, just like the basin downstairs in the privy. She turned the handles on and was rewarded when water gushed from the spigot. She played with the handles until the temperature felt good but watched in dismay as all the water rushed immediately from the bathing tub, straight out the hole in the bottom of it. 

 

She frowned and realized there must surely be something to prevent that from happening and spied another handle on the side of the tub. She turned that and suddenly the water stopped rushing out of the tub. She stood there, watching the bathing tub fill and smiled with satisfaction. It was the first thing that she so far totally approved of. How tedious it had always been to have water hauled for a bath. And, if it was tedious to her, how must it have been for the servants, now that she thought of it?

 

She stepped out of the totally ruined garments that she was wearing and looked at them with disgust. Not only were they filthy, they smelled as well and she wished she had somewhere to dispose of them, but shrugged and left them where they fell. She would worry about them later she decided.

 

The bath was about ½ full and she decided she had enough in the bathing tub, much more than she was used to and she stepped into the wonderfully warm water and with a sigh sank down into it. Sadly, she still had so much mud on her the water immediately became brown and muddy looking, but she tried to ignore it and looked around for soap so she could at least technically wash as much of the muck off of her as possible. 

 

There were several bottles of potions on a shelf built into the wall – ‘shower gel’ and ‘body wash’. Hmm, she decided that must be the soap, the one marked ‘body wash’. She did not understand ‘shower gel’ at all. The only showers she knew of were rain storms. Did these people bathe in the rain she wondered? And here was a bottle of something called ‘shampoo’. Hadn’t Mrs. Burton mentioned that word? She tried to remember exactly what the housekeeper had said, but she had heard so many new words today she was not at all sure. She read the words on the bottle, ‘Work a small amount onto wet hair and massage thoroughly, working into a lather. Rinse well and repeat if desired.’ Surely this must be something to cleanse her hair with and so she sank down into the water to get her hair wet and she could immediately feel caked in mud and bits of brush coming loose in the water. Suppressing a shudder at just exactly how dirty the water now was, she sat back up and poured some of the ‘shampoo’ into her hand.

 

How much is a small amount? The bottle gave no answer to that question, so she poured some into her hand and started to work it though. It didn’t seem like enough to get her hair clean, so she added more and it finally felt as if her whole head was now bubbly. It felt wonderful actually and it smelled even better she thought. She tried to decide what the smell reminded her of, certainly some type of flower, sweet and fragrant and she thought how good her hair would smell. Rebecca, one of the maids at home made lovely potions for them, soaps and lotions for their hair that smelled good, but none felt quite this good on her head. She sighed and savored every moment of washing her hair but suddenly a horrible thought came to her.

 

She was going to have to dip her head back down into the filthy water to rinse the shampoo out and she very much did not want to do that. Surely they would be forgiving of her waste of water as she was so dirty? She hoped so, but there was no way she was going to dip her head back down into that water!

 

She reached over to turn the water on again after turning the handle to let the dirty water out of the bathing tub and noticed several other handles there that she had not paid attention to before. After the dirty water drained had out, she enjoyed the feel of the fresh and clean water again filling the bathing tub. She looked more closely at the other handles but they gave no indication of what they did. They were not in the same location as the other handles, but were farther away. Curiosity got the better of her and she tried to twist one of the handles but there was not anything to grip. After a moment, frustration over came her and she smacked it in anger. Water immediately started pouring from other little holes on the sides of the bathing tub. They made delightful little bubbles all through the water and suddenly Clarke was giggling like a school girl. She did not know what they were, but she surely liked them, indeed she did! 

 

She dipped her head under the water, feeling some of the gushing water on her head and it felt really nice, like someone was massaging her head. Only with a great deal of reluctance did she sit up out of the water and laid back for a moment, enjoying the rushing water. The tub was almost totally full now and she leaned over and prepared to turn the handles again that would stop the water, but there was one other handle there that she had not yet explored, so she gave it a twist.

 

Immediately the water started pouring out from above and she knew she had done something terrible. She was sure her scream could be heard over half the county and she tried frantically to get to her feet, screaming the whole time. Her hair fell over her face, obstructing her view and she was frantically and blindly reaching for the handles to hopefully stop the downpour that was raining everywhere. Her had found one of the handles and turned it and all the warm water stopped, leaving icy jets of water pouring over her and the screams became earnest then. 

 

The rain was everywhere, all over the bathroom floor as well as the bathing tub as she tried frantically to climb out of the torrent without falling on the very slick floor. She was shrieking in indignation when Bellamy ran into the room, only to slip on all the water and slide headlong into the wall.

 

“What the hell?” he asked as he crawled to his knees and made his way over to where Clarke lay on the floor. She had finally managed to crawl over the side of the tub, but the shower was still on and water was now pouring over the side of the tub. Clarke was curled up into a ball, her arms over her head, crying miserably.

 

Bellamy reached into the tub and shut the shower and the water off and turned the lever to let the water drain out of the tub. He sat there on the floor, eyeing Clarke and wondering what the hell had happened. Her shrieks had scared him to death; he was positive she had fallen and seriously hurt herself. He sighed; it seemed he was really getting good at that today.

 

“Okay Clarke, what happened this time?” He had forgotten to call her ‘Miss Griffin’, and frankly he didn’t care. He looked around the room, at the water everywhere and said, “My God, what a mess! What the fuck happened?” He looked at her as she lay there on the floor, huddled into a ball and trying desperately to cover herself. He realized then that she was naked and he swallowed hard as he tried to drag his gaze away from her.

 

She lay there looking at him, suddenly aware that she was naked and had nothing to cover her. And as she looked at his face, she realized that he was aware of that as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to thank everyone again for their response to this story. It's very different, I know but I love mystical stories. There are several out there right now that I'm really into, like Finer Gods, Heaven for a Sinner like Me, Waste it on Me. If you haven't seen them, take a look. All my stories except **What If...** have that mystical element to them. Next week I'll be posting the 1st in a 5 part series titled **Around the World**. Bellamy and Clarke travel the world and discover that magic really does exist. It's sexy, sometimes explicit and fun. The first part is called **African Drums**.
> 
> Thank you all again for your time to read and comment and leave kudos. It always thrills a writer to know that their efforts are appreciated! Love to you all.
> 
> Happy Reading


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy's thoughts and emotions are once again on the wildest roller coaster ride he'd ever had. Clarke begins to figure out a few things, sometimes happily and other times speechless.

Bellamy was squatting down next to Clarke, his eyes raking over her exposed body. He could see goose bumps covering her skin, but whether they were because she was cold or scared he didn’t know. Her hair was draped in thick wet strands over her face and shoulders and she tried to move her head so that she might better see him. 

 

She blinked several times and Bellamy noticed again how beautiful her lashes were, long and thick; surely they must be every woman’s dream. It was terribly quiet in the room now and Bellamy felt drawn closer to her, again that mesmerizing feeling taking hold of his senses. His gaze shifted down her body, to where one rosy nipple was playing hide and seek under a strand of wet hair. It was tightly puckered and Bellamy’s mouth ached to feel it between his lips. His hand started to reach out, to push the offending strand of hair out of the way so that he might better see her breast when he heard her sharply draw in her breath.

 

He’s going to touch me again, she thought, panic flooding through her. She wanted to move away, to hide herself better and yet she didn’t. Her teeth were lightly biting her lower lip, in a way she had sometimes when she wasn’t sure what to do about something. And this was definitely one of those times. She couldn’t seem to move away and yet she knew it was wrong, lying here like this. But the way he looked at her excited her, in a way she had only felt one time before, this morning. 

 

_Surely something that makes one feel so good cannot possibly be bad?_

 

She heard her grandmother’s voice in her head, asking her if she had not a shred of modesty and she knew she must stop laying here so blatantly open to his view. She shifted her body, trying to pull her arm more closely against her breasts and then she drew her knees up more firmly. And thank heavens he had not shifted his gaze down _there!_

 

Bellamy saw that she was looking at him, her face blushing delightfully, her enigmatic blue eyes inscrutable and she moved to try to better cover herself. It was an impossible task, not enough arms to cover everything up and suddenly Bellamy stood up and grabbed a towel and dropped it down on her body. 

 

“Here,” he told her harshly as he turned away from her, more for his own sake than hers. “Cover yourself up!”

 

He was looking at the mess in the bathroom when he heard Mrs. Burton calling softly from the bedroom. She had been on the phone when Clarke had screamed and had just now got here. While it had seemed like an eternity to both Clarke and Bellamy, it actually had only been a minute or so since she had screamed.

 

Bellamy looked down at his clothes and let out a thoroughly disgusted breath. He was wet from the water and had managed to get some of the mud and muck from her clothes on himself as well. But the worst problem was his obvious state of arousal; the water that covered the front of his jeans emphasized it clearly. He didn’t need Mrs. Burton seeing that.

 

He quickly grabbed another towel and made a pretense, that wasn’t really a pretense, of wiping himself down as he called to Mrs. Burton to come in, but to watch her step. Clarke had sat up when he turned around and was trying to struggle to her feet while clutching the towel around her.

 

“Oh for Pete’s sake! Here, hold still,” he told her, trying to pull her to her feet.

 

She tried to scoot away from him, which wasn’t hard on the flooded floor and said sharply, “NO! I can rise by myself. Please, turn away.”

 

Bellamy turned away again as Mrs. Burton came in. She surveyed the floor, the water, Clarke in her drenched and desperate state and Bellamy, with his back to the young lady. She cast an anxious look at Bellamy before clucking sympathetically at Clarke’s sorry state.

 

“There, there Miss Griffin, let me help you! Mr. Blake, since you aren’t helping at all you might as well leave.” There, she had said it and she probably shouldn’t have but what was the matter with the young man, just standing there with this poor young lady so obviously hurt and distressed.

 

Clarke rose to her feet unsteadily and immediately wrapped the towel more securely around her, realizing as she did so that it certainly didn’t cover much. Mrs. Burton helped her to cautiously walk across the floor and out to the bedroom where Bellamy was waiting, having regained his own composure.

 

As soon as she saw Bellamy standing there she stopped in her tracks, staring at him. Embarrassment flooded across her face and she tilted her chin up a fraction of an inch to hide it.

 

Bellamy rolled his eyes at that; who the hell was she to act like this, he wondered? He’d done nothing but try to help this impossible female and had been pretty damn patient about it and she acts that way? Like, like she was some lady or something instead of the scheming opportunist that she was. 

 

_Unbelievable!_

 

“Mr. Blake, please! We need a bit of privacy here. That was Mr. Nathan on the phone. He will be home in a few minutes. Perhaps you would be so good as to wait for him downstairs?” Her words were politely spoken but nonetheless Bellamy got the message: Get out.

 

“Certainly Mrs. Burton. I will gladly leave her to you and good luck!” he tossed over his shoulder angrily as he made his way out the door. He closed it firmly and then stood in the hallway and let out a huge frustrated sigh. He ran fingers through hair that was mostly dry and felt the tender spot where he had run into the wall. There was a small bump there he thought and wondered that it hadn’t been much worse considering how fast he had slid across the floor of the bathroom.

 

 

He went to his room to change clothes, the whole time fuming about this whole situation. 

 

_What the hell is it with this girl? One minute I’m convinced she is genuinely hurt and the next I’m positive she is trying to scam me! And why on earth do I let her get to me like this. I don’t know whether to kiss her or strangle her._

 

_____________________

 

Clarke stood silently in the bedroom and Mrs. Burton pointed to the dressing gown that was still lying on the bed. Clarke turned her back and shrugged into it, only then releasing the wet towel. Mrs. Burton had gone into the bathroom and brought out another dry towel and gave it to Clarke for her hair. 

 

“There Miss Griffin, why don’t you start working on your hair a bit and we’ll get this mess cleaned up in the bathroom.” She went to the bed side table and picked up a strange looking instrument and punched several buttons on it and then held it up to her ear. “Susan, could you please grab some extra towels and a mop and bucket from the utility closet and come up to the yellow room? We’ve had a bit of an accident up here.” With that she replaced the instrument back onto the table and said, “Well now, Susan will be up momentarily and we’ll get it all taken care of, so you’re not to worry Miss Griffin!”

 

"Thank you Mrs. Burton. I – I am so sorry to have made such a mess. I am afraid though that I made things even worse. I touched something on the bathing tub and water started pouring from the ceiling. I am dreadfully sorry, I did not mean to cause any harm.” 

 

She was sitting on the bed, trying to dry her hair with the towel and Mrs. Burton didn’t know what to make of that statement. She seemed genuinely innocent of the workings of the shower, of most things it seemed and Mrs. Burton just didn’t understand how that could be. She mentally shook her head and decided a talk with Mr. Blake was in order. Where on earth had he found this puzzling young woman?

 

“Don’t worry yourself Miss Griffin, it will all clean up just fine,” she told Clarke with a nod of her head. “You didn’t break anything in the bathroom; what you did was turn the shower on. You just need to remember to pull the curtain around the tub when you use the shower, that’s all.”

 

Just then there was a knock on the bedroom door and Mrs. Burton hurried across the room to open it. “Ah Susan, thanks for responding so quickly. There’s quite a bit of water on the floor in the bathroom,” she indicated with a pointed finger. “If you could just get that cleaned up please?” she told Susan with a smile.

 

Susan nodded cheerfully and headed into the bathing room, what they were calling a ‘bathroom’ and stood in the doorway for a moment before muttering, “Oh my!”

 

Susan was young, as many chamber maids were. She was also very pretty, with long blond hair pulled back and not put up at all as was proper and she was not wearing a cap either. Her cheeks were bright pink and Clarke wondered if she was feeling well because her eyes were shadowed blue, with dark marks around them. Clarke hoped it was not contagious, whatever her malady was.

 

And she was dressed strangely as well, but then so was Mrs. Burton. Both were wearing breeches, like the men and neither wore aprons to cover their clothing. What a strange household this was she decided.

 

“We really need some clothing for you, but I’m afraid we haven’t any here that will do. Miss Mercedes is much shorter than you are and a good bit, well smaller here,” she told Clarke, her hands indicating her bosoms. “The robe will have to do for now, but it’s probably best, you most likely need to be in bed anyway. Maybe we can get one of the gentlemen’s tee shirts for you to put on for now. Would that be acceptable?”

 

Clarke didn’t have any idea at all what a tee shirt was but the thought of wearing an article of clothing that belonged to Bellamy excited her strangely and made her stomach knot and twist in that remarkable way it had when Bellamy was around. She nodded at Mrs. Burton and then sat down on the edge of the bed when Mrs. Burton left the room, likely in the search for a tee shirt.

 

She sat looking at her hands and decided they were definitely in bad shape. Several nails were now jaggedly torn and there was still dirt under a few of them. She needed a knife to pare them properly and get that dirt from under them. Her grandmother would be outraged at their appearance.

 

But suddenly a sad feeling swept over Clarke as she wondered if she would ever see her family again. 50 years since the mill was gone? How could that be? Her grandmother would certainly be dead now, as would her father in all likelihood. She needed to get to Archer’s Grove and look through the cemetery there and see if there were any clues for her. And – if the mill closed 50 years ago, what is the date now?

 

Susan came out of the bathroom then, carrying the bucket and mop, which she took out into the hallway. She came back in to gather up the towels and said to Clarke, “There Miss, it’s all good as new – no harm done a’tall! The floor is still a bit damp, so watch your step if you need to go back in.”

 

“Su – Susan, is it?” she asked, waiting for the maid to acknowledge her. When Susan nodded Clarke continued. “Susan, pray tell me, what is the date?”

 

Susan looked at her for a moment. She looked alright, but she had already heard the young lady had been struck by lightning this morning and had been hurt. She mentally shrugged and decided the young lady was just confused and answered, “Its June 9th Miss.”

 

Yes, it had been June 9th this morning for her as well. It was the year that was in question, but if she asked specifically about that date, Susan would know how confused she was and she didn’t know if it was good for them all to know that so she nodded uncertainly at Susan and murmured ‘thank you’ before the maid left the room, closing the door behind her.

 

Clarke stood up and went to look out the window. Bree’s room had looked out toward the stables and the summer gardens and Clarke held her breath, hoping that something would be the same. She parted the curtains and looked out and saw the stable and gardens. Oh, to be sure the gardens were different than before, but they were still there and the stable was the same old rock and wood structure it had always been. She saw a young woman walking towards the house from it; she had very short dark hair and was again wearing breeches. Did all women wear breeches now and whatever could have happened to her hair? Was it proper for young women to wear it so short and mannish? She just could not imagine that! It was scandalous.

 

There was a knock on the door and then Mrs. Burton entered, carrying something in her hand. She held it out to Clarke, who accepted it and looked at it curiously. It was obviously the tee shirt and it was very soft and very white. She held the fabric to her cheek for a moment and enjoyed the feel of the fabric against her cheek and then she caught the fragrance of it; something that smelled like a spring garden and she decided one thing about this place – she loved how things smelled.

 

"Thank you Mrs. Burton. I do appreciate your help and concern. Would it be possible to get some tea now? I find I am very thirsty still.”

 

“You’re very welcome Miss Griffin, but I do agree with Mr. Blake – we should probably hold off on giving you something else to eat or drink until the doctor has examined you, just to be sure. He should be here very quickly I think.” She saw the look of disappointment on Clarke’s face and hated that. The young lady had been through a good deal this morning and she wasn’t really sure if the tea would help or hurt her, but she saw Bellamy’s logic about it. She walked over and pulled the bed covers down and said, “Well, I’ll leave you to change and get into the bed to wait for Dr. Herbert to get here. It won’t be long, I promise.” 

 

“Mrs. Burton, please wait. I need something to pare my nails with,” Clarke told her, holding up a hand with several ragged nails on it. “I am afraid they are quite a fright.”

 

“Certainly Miss Griffin,” she told her before disappearing into the bathing room again. Clarke sat picking at the torn nails as she waited for Mrs. Burton to reappear.

 

“Here you go Miss Griffin, these will do the trick!” Mrs. Burton told Clarke as she handed her a metal object that Clarke didn’t recognize at all.

 

Clarke stared blankly at the object, turning it over in her hand as she looked for the blade that she could use to pare her nails. However, there did not seem to be one on the instrument and Clarke frowned with frustration. Was everything going to be such a challenge? She hated feeling helpless or ignorant and goodness, what must these people think of her? 

 

_You know quite well what they think Clarke – they think you are ‘addled’._

 

Mrs. Burton watched as Clarke examined the nail clippers in confusion, her pretty young face staring hard at them. She was chewing her bottom lip in concentration as she obviously tried to figure them out. What on earth did she normally use to trim her nails with she wondered. Finally she couldn’t stand there any longer without offering to help her.

 

“Here Miss Griffin, let me show you how they work,” the housekeeper told her, taking the instrument from Clarke. She opened it looked at Clarke’s hand and said, “May I?”

 

Clarke nodded yes and offered her hand with only the tiniest bit of hesitation. Her hand trembled a bit as Mrs. Burton held it and placed the end of the instrument over the end of the nail and pushed the handles together. 

 

It made a smart ‘snap’ sound and the jagged nail was gone! It was like magic to Clarke; she held the hand up and examined the nail, a huge smile spreading over her face. “Why, that is lovely and so simple! Thank you so much Mrs. Burton!” 

 

“Yes, you are quite welcome. Do you think you can manage the other nails?” and when Clarke nodded Mrs. Burton smiled one last time and then headed out the door which she closed behind her.

 

Clarke finished paring her nails with the wonderful instrument and then eyed her results with satisfaction. Amazingly simple this instrument was, and yet it worked quite efficiently she decided. Some things were definitely improved in this time. She stood up then and untied the dressing gown and took it off before holding up the tee shirt for inspection. Why, it was quite short; it would barely cover her derriere! How could she wear this? But she still pulled it on over her head and found that the fabric seemed to give and slip over her head quite easily. Soft and giving, what a wonderful fabric. She wondered if her father’s mill had produced such a fabric. 

 

She went back into the bathing room in search of a brush or comb for her hair. No Clarke, you must call it a ‘bathroom’ now, she thought as she hunted through several drawers until she found a brush. Trying to work it through the mass of tangles in her hair she wandered back out to the bed chamber, which she had also noticed was called a ‘bedroom’ and vowed that she needed to pay careful attention to this language that was currently being used. It was English, to be sure, but a different sort of English. The manner in which they used their words and even put them together was completely different. They seemed to shorten the words, so instead of ‘could not’ they mostly said ‘couldn’t’ and it was puzzling as to why. Did not society still have standards? Was this acceptable everywhere or just here in this house?

 

There was a knock on the door which startled Clarke. “Just – just a moment please,” she told the visitor and quickly pulled the dressing gown back on. The tee shirt, while wonderful did not cover enough of her to allow other persons to see her in it. After she tied the dressing gown firmly into place she said, “Come in please”.

 

Mrs. Burton opened the door and ushered a kindly looking older man into the room. “Miss Griffin, this is Dr. Herbert and he’s going to examine you.”

 

“How do you do Miss Griffin? I’ve heard you have had a very difficult day!” He offered her his hand and she looked at it for a moment before placing her own in it. He grasped her hand firmly and shook it up and down briefly before letting it go. She looked at him curiously, but he was already pulling objects from his medical bag.

 

“Would you care to sit down on this chair Miss Griffin? So I may examine you?” He indicated the chair near the small desk and she took it, watching with interest what medical tools he might carry with him. She didn’t recognize most, which made them all more fascinating to her.

 

He held out an instrument that was vaguely familiar to her and blew gently on it before holding it over her heart and pressing it firmly to her chest. She drew back in alarm for a moment and then realized this was similar to the device that doctors listened to your heart with in her own time. She wondered if this might provide her with an opening to discover the date.

 

“That instrument looks very modern Dr. Herbert. The last time I saw one was when I broke my wrist falling out of a tree, but that one had a horn at one end and a short piece that the doctor listened from. Yes, this one is quite modern indeed,” she said hopefully.

 

Dr. Herbert pulled the stethoscope away from her abruptly and took a good look at his patient. They had told him downstairs that she was evidently addled, but she had just described something she could only have seen in history books. He decided to let her know she was incorrect; there was no sense in letting her continue this strange story she was trying to convince everyone of.

 

“Miss Griffin, that particular instrument is very old indeed. I’m sure you saw it in a history book perhaps or in a museum. It is at least 200 years old!”

 

“Tw – two hundred years old sir? Surely not. That cannot be possible. I only broke my wrist some 10 years ago. There must be a mistake.” She was deathly pale again and her eyes had taken on a glassy look that alarmed the doctor.

 

“Miss Griffin, I assure you it was at least two hundred years ago since an instrument such as you described was used. What year do you think this is?”

 

“It is – was 1822 when I arose this morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am loving the response to this story. I know, it's not the usual Bellarke story, but then again, I do appreciate the unusual stories on here. The ride gets even more confusing for both Bellamy and Clarke as we get further into the story, so please stay tuned as the story unfolds. Thank you so much for reading and all the kudo and comments. They inspire the writer to be sure. If you have any questions about this story or the series I will start posting later this week, you can contact me via email at, hopesjourney@gmail.com
> 
> Happy Reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The doctor is in and is puzzled by Clarke's behavior, but then dismisses it. Mercedes on the other hand is intrigued and more than amused by Bellamy's responses. She won't let it slide and she is a powerful force and Bellamy should watch out.

“Miss Griffin, please calm yourself. Here,” he said, gently leading her back to the chair. “Please, have a seat again. We’ll get this all sorted out, I promise you.”

 

Clarke let herself be led back to the chair and sat down heavily, feeling as if all her bones had turned to mush. She took a couple of deep breaths and let them out shakily before trying to speak again. 

 

_How on earth could this be? Nearly two hundred years had gone by? It was unthinkable. And yet here she was. No one could possibly set up such a scene, fool her so completely. People did not travel through time, could not travel through time. Could they?_

 

“Please Miss Griffin, it will be fine. You will be fine. You’ve had quite an experience today; being struck by lightning is a frightening experience and your confused state is the result of that. All will likely be fine in a day or two.” As he spoke he was examining her head, carefully feeling it, most likely for bumps or tender spots and when he found none, he grunted mildly in satisfaction. He picked up another unknown instrument that looked rather like an odd gun. He turned her head to one side and put it lightly into her ear and after a few seconds it made an odd chiming sound and he looked at it and nodded, seemingly pleased.

 

 

“Have you felt nauseous? Light headed? Does your head hurt? Have you seen any spots before your eyes?” he asked, one question following another as he had her follow his finger with her eyes. She shook her head negatively time and time again and still he had more questions.

 

“Do you have any sore spots on your body? What about ringing in your ears?” he asked as he examined the scrapes and scratches on her arms. She sat there silently listening to the questions, always answering with a shake of her head. He took out a strange instrument that looked like a small hammer and lightly knocked it against her knee, which caused it to kick up. 

 

“Hm, yes. That’s good Miss Griffin. You seem to be fine,” he said while examining the cuts and abrasions on her arms with a frown. “But you do need a few stitches in that leg.” He nodded at the gash across her calf. “How long has it been since you have had a tetanus shot?

 

“Fine? Excuse me Dr. Herbert, but I do not believe I am fine. You tell me the date is 2017 and I am telling you that this morning, when I left my home it was 1822. How do you explain that? And what is this ‘tetanus’ shot? I am quite sure I have never had such a thing.” That did not sound pleasant at all and as she watched he pulled something out of his medical bag that had a needle on it, she became even more alarmed and then agitated as she watched the doctor as he examined the needle.

 

“As I explained Miss Griffin, I’m sure your momentary confusion is merely the result of your injury. Your memory will likely be fine very soon. Tetanus is a type of bacteria that is found in soil and when you have puncture wounds or even open wounds like you have, it’s better to err on the side of caution and give you a shot since you can’t remember when you last had one.” She watched as he stuck the needle into a very small vial and pulled some liquid into a chamber below the needle. He continued his conversation and asked, “So, are you related to the Griffin’s that used to own the mill outside of town?” 

 

His eyes narrowed as he watched her face. Her eyes lit brightly for a moment and then quickly clouded again as she tried to decide how to answer that question he thought. If she was faking all this, she was very good at it.

 

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to think about that needle. She understood what ‘stitches’ meant and knew that they would not be pleasant at all. Still, if it must be she would endure. “My father is Jacob Griffin; the mill was started by Robert Griffin. Our home is named after him, my grandfather that is. Roberts Folly? Perhaps you have seen it or heard of it Dr. Herbert?”

 

“Well, certainly we’ve all heard of it. Back in the early twentieth century, well, really before that as well the mill was the livelihood of this town; my own father worked there. It was only after the war that things started to change for the mill, with the invention of artificial fibers and all. Old Lawrence Griffin closed it around 1950 or so and he died a few years later I think. I don’t believe he had any direct descendants. There were cousins and such though I believe. You must be from that part of the family?”

 

It would do no good to argue this point with him she could tell. He had no more answers to give her and she leaned back tiredly against the chair with a sigh. “Dr. Herbert, might I possibly lie down and rest? I am extremely tired!”

 

“Certainly, certainly Miss Griffin, as soon as we get this leg stitched up. I’m sure the rest will do you a great deal of good. I’m going to go ahead and give you the tetanus shot, just to be sure,” he told her as he wiped something that felt cold across her arm. This was quickly followed by the needle being stuck into her arm. She quickly drew in her breath, but then realized it did not hurt all that badly and it was over almost immediately. She let the breath out and then smiled faintly. Not so bad at all, she decided.

 

“There now, that’s over and done with.” He pulled a small foot stool over close to her chair and propped her foot up on it. Now then, I’ll inject some lidocaine into your leg to numb it before I take the stitches, okay?”

 

Again she didn’t have any understanding about what he was telling her, but she nodded and watched him pull another needle from his bag and filled it with something else. He stuck that into her leg near the gash and she let out a cry – this did hurt and it stung as well.

 

He looked up and smiled at her, patting her leg and said, “It will be numb soon and we can get those stitches in. I really think this is the worst part of stitches, the lidocaine that is. And if you are still not feeling sick at your stomach after we are done with the stitches, you may eat if you are hungry. Now then, let’s see if the lidocaine has done its job, shall we?” He probed at the gash with another instrument she didn’t recognize and she realized she could not feel what he was doing. Amazing. . 

 

She watched as he readied yet another needle and prepared to stitch her leg. He swabbed some dark liquid over her leg where the gash was and it stained her leg a terrible rust color and then he inserted the needle into the flesh of her leg. It was curiously fascinating to watch. She saw the needle moving in and out of her leg, but she really could not feel it – maybe just a little pressure, like her skin was being lightly pinched. He took 4 stitches in her leg which he then bandaged before putting the items back into his medical bag. He pulled out a small envelope and placed some small blue objects into it before handing it to her.

 

“Here you are Miss Griffin, these Bellamy help you with any discomfort you may have from the stitches. You may not even need them, but you’ll have them just in case. They are very mild and you may take one every 4 hours or so. Now, I believe that Mrs. Burton indicated that you wished for some tea so I’ll tell her it is okay to bring it now. I’ll go and let you rest and I'll check on you again tomorrow Miss Griffin. If you start to have any problems such as nausea or headache, please let Mrs. Burton know and she can call me at once.”

 

Clarke watched as he packed his instruments back into his bag before snapping it smartly shut and departing the room. She sat quietly for a moment, fatigue washing over her as well as a sense of depression such as she had never felt before. Her still damp hair was pressed against the back of the chair and she let out a slow breath.

 

In a few minutes there was a soft knock on the door and when Clarke called out for them to enter, Susan poked her head in and asked if Clarke still wanted some tea. 

 

“Yes, very much!” she said, realizing how badly she wanted it. Susan carried a tray across the room and sat it on the small table near her chair. The tray held a small tea pot and a cup and saucer as well as some flat-looking biscuits, which didn’t look at all appetizing. Still, the tea smelled heavenly she thought with an appreciative sniff.

 

“Mrs. Burton sent up some saltines for you as well. She said for you to try to eat some of them and if they sat well on your stomach she’ll send up some soup!” Susan told her, a friendly smile shining on her face.

 

“Thank you Susan. Yes, I will try to eat the um, saltines and let you know how I feel. How do I call for you?” she asked, looking around the room for the bell pull.

 

“Why, just call ‘04’ on the phone Miss Griffin,” Susan told her, nodding to the small table by the bed. All that was on it was the instrument that Mrs. Burton had ‘called’ Susan on so she surmised that it must be the ‘phone’. 

 

“Yes, I shall do that. You may leave now Susan,” she said with a dismissive nod toward the door. 

 

Susan nodded at her with a smile and then left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. 

 

Clarke prepared to eat her ‘saltines’ and drink her tea. Suddenly, she was very tired.

 

____________________

 

Downstairs Bellamy, Mrs. Burton, Mercedes and Miller were chatting about Clarke when Dr. Herbert joined them.

 

Mercedes was extremely curious about Clarke Griffin. She had never seen Bellamy Blake react so strongly to anyone. You could always count on Bellamy to maintain his calm demeanor no matter what happened and yet this young woman had him practically sputtering.

 

She thought about Bellamy a lot and had decided several years ago that he was the man she wanted to marry and only recently had she started to doubt that it would happen. They were perfect for one another; they came from the same social background, they were both educated and understood the demands that the advantage of money placed upon you. She envisioned their life as being perfect; the perfect house and children, careers that afforded them many benefits and privileges.

 

But Mercedes had forgotten about one thing – they didn’t love one another and that seemed to matter more and more to her. She had pestered Bellamy constantly for the past few years and it had actually become a game to her; watching him squirm away. This morning, on her ride several realizations had occurred to her, one of them being that she didn’t love him and that she wasn’t likely to. Mercedes always prided herself on being brutally honest with herself and others and with this realization she decided that she had to move on. 

 

She had a lot going for her and she knew that she was lucky in that. She owned the very successful and trendy Visions and Dreams Gallery in New York City and was soon going to open another one in Los Angeles. She specialized in art that ‘spoke’ to people – nothing that you had to stare at to find out what it was. She didn’t mind that sort of art really, but people seemed to go back to art that was pleasing to the eye, the sort that calmed you to look at or made you remember something fondly from your past. It all sounded rather cliché she knew, but it worked. There were a hundred art galleries in New York that featured hip, up and coming artists who created fascinating works of art that demanded your attention in order to interpret, but Visions and Dreams was different and she was determined to keep it that way. To her critics who thought her featured artists outdated and old fashioned, she had but one thing to say: take a look at her gallery’s sales!

 

The more she listened to Bellamy and Mrs. Burton, the more anxious Mercedes became to meet Miss Clarke Griffin! Anyone who could get Bellamy so stirred up must be very interesting indeed.

 

“No Miller,” Bellamy was telling her brother, “She has to be faking. I don’t know how she pulled it all off, but she’s certainly made it look convincing – on the surface anyway.”

 

“I really don’t agree Mr. Blake,” Mrs. Burton interjected. “She is undoubtedly dazed and confused, but heavens, who would dream up such a wildly impossible story? Dr. Herbert, what do you think?”

 

“She is very shaken up and her confusion seems genuine. She watched everything I did as if she had never seen anything like it before. But – “he held up his hand when Bellamy tried to interrupt. “But, certainly she can’t be from 1822, that’s impossible. I think she is just suffering a head trauma and will probably be just fine in a few days.”

 

“She thinks its 1822 does she? At least she’s consistent since that goes with the dates carved into the wood at Roberts Folly,” Bellamy huffed with a roll of his eyes.

 

Miller was sitting back in his chair, his black hair neatly trimmed and brown eyes taking in everything being said. He sipped from his cup of black coffee and stretched his legs out before him under the large table. “Dr. Herbert, should we take her in for a CAT scan or something? I mean, if she has a head injury of some kind isn’t it better to be safe than sorry?” His voice was smooth and smoky sounding, a voice of calm amidst Bellamy’s over-excited one.

 

Dr. Herbert frowned and pursed his lips. He had been their family doctor since Miller and Mercedes were children. All but retired now, it showed what a strong connection he had with the Miller’s for him to come out here for this. “No, I don’t think so, at least at this time. If she develops other symptoms possibly, but for now let’s just let her rest and see what comes of it. There are no bumps on her head; she has no fever, nausea or dizziness. No, let’s just see what happens,” he repeated, nodding emphatically.

 

As an afterthought he added, “I’ve given her some pain relievers if she should need them, but she probably won’t.” He stood up and picked up his medical bag and nodded towards them and said, “I’ll be going now and I’ll stop in to check on her tomorrow. Call me if her condition should change.” He waved and headed for the doorway with Mrs. Burton following to let him out.

 

Susan came into the kitchen then, looking for Mrs. Burton. “I’ve been trying to clean Miss Griffin’s dress, but I think it’s probably hopeless. And her underwear, why, I’ve never seen anything like it at all! I don’t know what to do.”

 

Mercedes stood up to examine the clothes, which had been washed but still were covered with ground in soil and grass stains. They were also practically ripped to shreds. The gown would have been lovely Mercedes was sure, when it was new. It was empire style, a deep russet color with fine lace over it. Truly beautiful! What Susan was referring to as underwear was basically unrecognizable though. Mercedes held up what could only be some type of corset and a chemise and frowned. They needed to find Miss Griffin something to wear and Mercedes realized that nothing she had would work. She turned and looked at Bellamy and cocked a perfectly shaped eyebrow upwards and commented. “Much taller than I am and also rather, er, well-endowed I see. We’ll have to go buy something for her because there isn’t going to be anything here to fit her. What’s she wearing now?”

 

“One of my tee shirts,” Bellamy exclaimed in irritation. He wouldn't admit it to himself even but it actually sort of excited him to think of her in his tee shirt. The soft cotton would hug her curves and stretch over her breasts. He inwardly groaned at the thought, and when he looked up he found Mercedes watching him with a smirk.

 

Mercedes turned her face away quickly so that Bellamy wouldn’t see the smile that crept across her generous mouth. Yes indeed, she couldn’t wait to meet Miss Griffin.

 

“Well, she’ll be fine in the tee shirt today and tomorrow I’ll go shopping to get her a few things – that is if she doesn’t remember where her things are. Brother mine, you should call around town and ask if anyone has reported her missing. Surely someone has by now.” Miller nodded as Mercedes spoke and headed into the study to make some calls.

 

Mrs. Burton still hadn’t come back into the room and that left only Mercedes and Bellamy. He was drumming his fingertips sharply along the top on the table, a tuneless staccato that showed his annoyance. Mercedes got up to get a glass of iced tea and pointed to the pitcher, silently inquiring if Bellamy wanted any. He nodded absently and she added ice into two glasses and poured the tea.

 

Suddenly Bellamy smacked his hand down loudly on the table and stated, “She thought I was trying to poison her when I got water for her, from the fridge! She is just impossible, completely impossible.”

 

This time the frosty glass of tea hid Mercedes smile. Oh! She thought, he has it BAD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes isn't going to let Bellamy go so easily on this and Clarke doesn't yet realize she has a staunch ally in the fun and determined woman.
> 
>  
> 
> I love Mercedes in this story, she's fun to write and sees much more than Bellamy is comfortable with. 
> 
>  
> 
> Bellamy tries hard to convince his friends (and himself) that it's all a scam, but Miller and Mercedes see things a bit differently in the next chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and commenting and the kudo's lovely people; they mean so much and inspire me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Bellamy and Clarke feel the pull towards one another although they don't understand why.

Miller came back into the kitchen a short while later. Bellamy was sitting at the table as was Mercedes. She sat watching Bellamy, the barest hint of a smile on her face while Bellamy drank his iced tea, fidgeting all the while. Neither one spoke and Miller noticed that curiously; it wasn’t like Mercedes not to be chattering away. Mrs. Burton was working at the counter, possibly on preparations for dinner and she was silent as well. Apparently all were lost in their own thoughts.

 

"I’ve talked with the police and no one has reported a missing woman around here. They are going to run a regional check as well and will let us know when they have the results. But they haven’t heard of any Griffin’s around this area for many years. There are some Griffin’s still around Boston they think and they’ll investigate that as well. It seems she might really have appeared out of thin air!” Miller watched Bellamy carefully as he spoke.

 

Miller didn’t have a clue what was going on, but it was all very mysterious. He couldn’t really believe that she had somehow traveled through time to get here, but he also didn’t believe she was trying to scam them out of money. No, he figured she was genuinely hurt, whether or not she realized it. Bellamy always told him he was too soft-hearted for his own good; that he needed to toughen up. But Miller didn’t see anything wrong with thinking the best of people until they proved you wrong. He believed that people usually gave you what you expected of them and if you expected the best you got it.

 

Bellamy on the other hand, having grown up around the Blake Foundation had seen all manner of scams and people trying to play the system. It was probably inherent in any philanthropic endeavor but for every scam there were 50 legitimate needs. And regardless of whether or not Miss Griffin was ill or just alone and down on her luck, she most likely had legitimate needs and Miller for one decided to try to discover the truth before condemning her. But he watched Bellamy and his reactions carefully; the girl had certainly gotten to him and Miller wanted to know how and why.

 

Mercedes caught his eye then and looked pointedly at Bellamy who was again rapping his fingers on the table, making dull, thumping noises that had no tune or rhythm at all. She shrugged her shoulders when Miller gave her a ‘what’s that about’ look, but she just grinned and her eyes lit with humor. She was enjoying this Miller could tell and he groaned inwardly. The last thing this situation needed was Mercedes stirring things up. He sent her a stern warning look which only succeeded in making her grin broaden even more. She sat there at the table, apparently relaxed as she examined her fingernails, as if looking for a defect in the flawless manicure.

 

Bellamy shook his head and exclaimed loudly, “She didn’t just drop out of the sky Miller and I certainly didn’t find her under a cabbage leaf. She got here somehow and I’ll tell you something, she sure as hell seemed to know the neighborhood. She told me exactly how to get to Roberts Folly and she knew her way around the twisting and turning hallways of that house, navigated them like a pro. And I think that is exactly what she is; a pro. She did her research well, I’ll give her that.” He suddenly jumped to his feet, almost knocking the chair over in the process. His hands were stuffed into his front pockets as he strode over to the large window that looked out over the garden in the back. As he stood there staring almost blindly out the window, his posture was rigid and ram-rod stiff. He drug in a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. 

 

He didn’t really understand why he was so agitated either. Clarke just had this way of getting under his skin. Yeah, like a huge burr he decided with a grimace. The whole situation was impossible, unbelievable and yet, when you talk to her, look at her, you – almost – actually believe. It was preposterous and he called himself every kind of a fool for almost falling for it.

 

He turned around and saw Miller and Mercedes watching him. Both looked almost amused, which made his back stiffen once again in response. He decided he needed to clear his head and headed out the back door. Some fresh air would do him good he thought.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Clarke finished the pot of excellent tea and ate the ‘saltines’. Despite their unappetizing look, they really were not bad; very crisp and light. She stifled yet another yawn and decided she must have a nap. She decided that before she crawled into the bed she needed to go into the bathing room to use the privy and then chastised herself. I really must remember to call it a ‘bath room’ she vowed, reaching for the button that would bring light to the room.

 

It really was a pleasing room she decided. It was large and very clean. Oh, how lovely not to have to use a chamber pot at night or in the winter and certainly so much nicer for the servants. The colors of the bedroom carried on into this room, bright sunshine yellows and butterscotch. Clarke looked at the bathing tub and remembered how delightful it had felt and then she also recalled the indignity of falling out of it and Bellamy finding her. She noticed a drapery at one end of the bathing tub and she reached out to touch it, thinking it was a very strange place for a curtain to be. It was actually two layers, a fabric layer over something that felt totally unlike anything she had ever touched before. Smooth and slick feeling, it was very thick for fabric she thought as she slid it between her fingers. She was sure she had never felt any such thing before. She noticed the pole at the top; the little rings evidently slid upon the pole, closing off the bathing tub for privacy. This must be the ‘shower curtain’ that Mrs. Burton mentioned. She also noticed the place where the rain shower had come from; a large round protrusion with many tiny holes in it, almost as if specifically designed for water to have poured out of it in such a manner that had scared her so.

 

Why not Clarke she decided. It was a wonderful thought, warm water rushing out of it, almost like a fountain. What a wonderful convenience and suddenly she couldn’t wait to try it again, on purpose this time. Yes, that curtain definitely made sense; it would enable one to enjoy the spray from the fountain without the mess of all the water going everywhere. She sighed with this discovery and almost was tempted to try it all out. Tomorrow she decided, early in the morning!

 

She used the privy and as she pushed the lever that sent the water rushing down and out of it decided that some of the things in 2017 were definitely a wonderful surprise.

 

Another huge yawn overtook her and she paused by the window for a moment before she lay down to take a nap. She was tempted to open her window to let in some air and yet even though the room was closed up it was still quite temperate and comfortable. Another thing to wonder about she decided with a frown. She started to turn away from the window when she noticed Bellamy striding out towards the grounds at the back of the house.

 

He was walking purposefully, as if he had a goal in mind and she watched him moving across the grounds. His long-legged gait was pleasing to watch; he moved quite nicely she thought and wondered how he would sit a horse. She watched for another moment and suddenly he stopped and stood still for a moment and then he turned around and looked directly up at her window.

 

Even though they were far apart, their eyes locked with one another’s and Clarke couldn’t stop the shiver that danced down her spine and brought goose bumps. Her breath caught in her throat and she knew she had to move away from the window; how he could affect her from this distance she did not know or understand but he certainly did. She remembered his lips on hers and the tingling feeling when his hand had touched her breast; a warm flush spread over her and she felt her stomach clench in response.

 

She pulled the drapes closed and stepped back from the window slowly. She realized – reluctantly that he certainly did have the ability to stir her in ways she did not understand. With a large sigh she got to the bed she pulled the satiny duvet down and slid between incredibly soft sheets that reminded her of the smell in a flower garden. Yes, things certainly smelled good in this century she decided as she slipped off to sleep.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bellamy stood rooted to the spot in the yard, looking up and watching Clarke as she watched him. He had been walking across the grounds, hoping to work off some of the confusion and annoyance of the whole situation when he had felt something raise the hair on the back of his neck and he immediately ran his hand over them. He stopped and turned to look up, not really surprised at all to find Clarke watching him from her room. 

 

Their eyes met and connected and for the briefest moment Bellamy was lost in her gaze. He could see her gorgeous blue eyes clearly, or maybe it was only in his memory he wasn’t sure but they still entranced him. He was unable to look away; he knew that even though he tried. She finally pulled the curtains closed and she was gone from his sight, but not from his mind.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

“Alright Mercedes, what do you find so amusing about all this?” Miller asked his sister and she continued to grin as the door closed sharply behind Bellamy.

 

She gave a quick laugh and said, “Come on Nate, aren’t you fascinated by Bellamy’s behavior? I am. Have you ever seen him so agitated about something or more importantly, _someone_?”

 

Miller had to admit she had a point; he hadn’t ever seen Bellamy react this way, to anything. “No, I haven’t and so help me Mercedes, he doesn’t need any more trouble because of you. So just stay out of it!” he told her sternly, looking pointedly into her brown eyes.

 

“Yes, I’m sure it’s going to be much more fun to watch from the sidelines. I think our independent Bellamy has at last met his match!” she laughed as she left the room.

 

Miller watched her retreat and could only hope that she was serious when she said that.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dinner was approaching and Mrs. Burton was a bit concerned; their young guest hadn’t called for anything so she decided to try to take a peek into the room to make sure all was well. After all, Dr. Herbert had charged her with keeping an eye on Miss Griffin she thought as she very lightly tapped on the door to the yellow room.

 

She waited for a full minute and didn’t hear anything so she slowly opened the door and peered into the dim room. Miss Griffin had closed the drapes and from the looks of the bed was sleeping and soundly at that since the knock on the door hadn’t made her stir.

 

Mrs. Burton approached the bed and saw that she was indeed sleeping, peacefully it seemed. Her breathing was soft and deep and Mrs. Burton had to resist the impulse to reach out and feel her forehead for fever. But no, she just seemed to be sleeping and poor thing, she probably deserved it after the day she had had. Her face was peaceful and she looked very much like a child, her lower lip sticking out a bit, almost like a pout.

She sighed and moved in her sleep and Mrs. Burton was content that she was fine.

 

The housekeeper left the room then, agreeing with Miss Mercedes’ curiosity about Mr. Bellamy. His reaction was puzzling indeed.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bellamy had walked for an hour or so and finally found his way to an old haunt of his, Miller and Mercedes’ when they were kids. There was a small river that crossed the property of Archer House and there was a place where a natural cove existed and made a perfect place to swim. They had spent endless hours here as teenagers, jumping off the rope that hung from the oak tree and swung out over the water. The cove was naturally very deep, but Miller’s dad had still worried about the fluctuation of water levels and constantly had it monitored to ensure their safety. Bellamy wondered if Miller did that since his father’s death two years ago.

 

Bellamy tugged on the rope and it still seemed secure and for a moment he considered shucking his clothes and taking a swing before common sense took over and told him it would be stupid to do it without knowing the depth of the water.

 

“Thinking of taking a swim?” 

 

Bellamy turned around and found Miller standing about 10 feet away, a huge smile slashing across his face. He walked towards Bellamy and gave the rope a huge tug and seemed satisfied that it was in good repair. He then proceeded to start removing his clothes and he looked up at Bellamy who was only standing there watching him.

 

“Not going to swim?” he asked as he finished stripping down to his skivvies.

 

“Have you had the water level checked? Is it safe?” Bellamy asked, his longing gaze skimming over the water. It was a hot day and that cool water would certainly feel very good.

 

“All the time. Even though you might not get out here too often, I do and swimming in this spot is still one of the best amusements at Archer House! C’mon you big ‘ole worry wart, pull those clothes off and jump in!” Miller teased before grabbing the rope and swinging far out over the water with a Tarzan yell. He seemed suspended in mid-air for a brief moment and then he let loose and plunged into the water, laughing like a kid again.

 

Bellamy didn’t waste a moment then and was soon hanging onto the rope, yelling himself. That first plunge into the cool water almost made up for the whole day and he realized that this was exactly what he needed.

 

They played and swam for a long time, taking turns on the rope and dunking one another until they both felt about 16 again. Miller considered how to get Bellamy to talk about what was going on with Clarke, but the time just didn’t seem right.

 

“I thought I might find you both here! Mrs. Burton sent me to find you, dinner is ready. Do you two have any idea what time it is?” Mercedes asked.

 

Although she didn’t realize it, both Bellamy and Miller groaned. Miller because he still didn’t know what she was up to and Bellamy because he was suddenly feeling uncomfortable to have to get out of the water with only wet boxers on and Mercedes standing there observing it all.

 

Mercedes however was a very astute girl and immediately picked up on their thoughts. Oh, I could really have some fun with this she thought and knew that in the past she would have, but it didn’t seem like much fun now. She did wish that she was out there swimming with them, but as she had gotten older she had usually only swam in the pool; she seemed to like things a bit more civilized although she couldn’t deny that some of the best times of her life were spent right here with Miller and Bellamy.

 

“Well,” she said, deciding to go back to the house. “It’s after 7:00 so come on now. I’ll see you back at the house,” she told them, waving as she turned around and headed back up the path to the house.

 

They both watched her go back up the path and each wondered how they had gotten off so easily. Bellamy looked at Miller and said, “Do you suppose she is just hiding up there a ways, waiting to ambush?”

 

“Strangely enough, no I don’t. C’mon, let’s go get some dinner, I’m starved!” 

 

They both waded out of the water and stood for a moment contemplating pulling their clothes on over wet skivvies and with a laugh Miller finally suggested, “Commando?” 

 

“Yeah, commando it is,” Bellamy told him with a laugh as he shrugged into his clothes.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

When they got back to the house Mrs. Burton gave them both ‘the look’, a look they remembered well from their teen years and they both ducked their heads to hide their laughter.

 

“Um, we, ah, won’t be but a few minutes Mrs. Burton. Just give us a moment to change?” Miller asked in his best, ‘I’m so sorry’ voice.

 

She stood there with her hands on her hips, trying to glare fiercely at them and failing miserably. Yes, she admitted to herself, these two young men warmed her heart and she couldn’t be mad at them for long. She also noticed they tried to hide their wet underwear from her, holding it behind their backs. And she noticed it was dripping onto the floor.

 

“You’re dripping!” she told them, pointing to the water that was pooling on the floor behind them both. 

 

They both turned around and noticed the wet spots. And they both took off at a trot for the stairs, leaving the mess for her to clean up. Just as well she thought, easier this way.

 

“Scamps, they are both still scamps!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Miller and Bellamy showered and dressed in what seemed like record time, to them at least. They both appeared downstairs, wet hair combed into place and casually dressed for dinner.

 

“My, that smells delicious Mrs. Burton,” Bellamy commented, trying to steal his way back into her good graces by flattery. “What are we having?”

 

She laughed at his attempt. It was very sweet and very much like Bellamy. It was a shame that he didn’t realize he didn’t need to bother; she had already forgiven them both, if indeed she had ever really been angry to begin with. 

 

“Salad, spaghetti and garlic bread. I decided that since you both were acting like silly boys I’d feed you like that!” Of course, she had been cooking the sauce most of the afternoon in preparation for one of their favorite meals as kids, but they didn’t need to know that.

 

“Dessert?” Miller asked slyly.

 

“Cheesecake, with fresh raspberries out of the garden. Now, get into the dining room so you can eat. Your sister is fair to starving!” She pointed towards the door to the dining room with a determined finger and they both followed its direction without any more talk. As they walked away they heard her muttering under her breath, “Just what do they mean, holding up dinner for the whole household? Scamps!” and they both knew they were out of trouble.

 

In the dining room Mercedes was already sitting at the table, sipping a glass of wine. She held it up to them when they entered and muttered, “About time!” She realized how childish that comment had been and she also wondered at the ability of this house to turn them all into teenagers again. Of course, if she were truly still a teenager she would have stolen this wine away to her room to sip it behind a locked door. So maybe being an adult wasn’t so bad after all.

 

Miller and Bellamy each took a chair at the table; Miller at the head and Bellamy directly across from Mercedes. She poured them each a glass of wine and raised her own newly refilled one to make a toast. “Here’s to opening your eyes and understanding your own heart!” And after that cryptic comment, she drank from her glass, watching both of the men’s confused expressions with amusement. 

 

Bellamy sat his glass down abruptly and looked around the room. “Isn’t Clarke joining us for dinner?” he asked as Mrs. Burton came in with their salads.

 

“No, she is not!” she told them, heading back out the doorway into the kitchen. 

 

“Mrs. Burton, wait!” he stopped her. “Um, where is she?” He didn’t see the look of dismay on his face at the realization that she would not be joining them, nor did he notice the sound of disappointment in his voice. But everyone else did.

 

“She’s still sleeping Mr. Blake and I dare say she needs it; the young lady has had a very trying day!” 

 

The comment managed to sound scolding towards him and he blushed brightly red. To himself he thought skeptically, “She’s had a trying day?” But he said nothing and watched as Mrs. Burton left the room. 

 

Mercedes again had one eyebrow raised, but there was no surprise on her face. Nope, none at all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the encouraging kudos and comments. They are always appreciated and makes my writer's soul soar. 
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> Next chapter, did Clarke dream it all? Why was she back home then? Bellamy can't stay away from her and goes into her bedroom to check on her. What will he find? 
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> See you all next time dear readers. 
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> I'm working on the 1st story in my series of 5 titled Around the World, where Clarke and Bellamy travel. The first story is called African Drums, it's mystical and sexy and I hope you will all love it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is surprised when she finds Bellamy in her room. How will she handle it?

_Clarke woke up suddenly. She had been dreaming that Bellamy’s lips were against hers, giving her soft and tender kisses that were causing a tingling sensation and for a moment after she awakened she was hesitant to open her eyes to reality. But then she knew she could not be in bed any longer, because her face was cradled against very soggy earth and a piece of damp grass was all that was tickling her lips._

_She reluctantly opened her eyes and took in the scene around her. She blinked several times to clear her vision because surely something was wrong – drastically wrong._

_She was back in the meadow where she had been painting. Her easel and ruined canvas lay near her and the clouds were starting to dissipate, with brief glimpses of blue poking through them. She sat up abruptly and looked around for Bellamy and the strange carriage but neither were anywhere to be seen._

_She stood up shakily and steadied herself when a brief moment of vertigo surged through her. After it passed she made her way out to the lane where Bellamy’s carriage had been. There was no sign of Bellamy or the carriage and as she looked at the lane she noticed that it was once again the dirt and gravel road she knew._

_What on earth is happening to me she wondered? Did I dream it while I was sleeping? Bellamy, the carriage, the indoor privy? Surely I could not have conceived of all of that in my imagination?_

_But I must have!_

_She quickly gathered her supplies and made for Roberts Folly. Oh yes, I’m going home and for a moment she rejoiced in the thought. To be with her family again, safe and sound at home. But that meant she had just imagined Bellamy and the connection she felt with him – she had imagined that kiss, the kiss that had made her senseless and desirous of something unknown._

_This is what she wanted did she not – for it all to be a dream and to be able to go back home? Her small white teeth bit her bottom lip and for a moment she tasted the bitter, coppery taste of blood. Consternation flooded her head; this was not a fair choice to make._

_She ran home to Roberts Folly, as quickly as she could and when she arrived she was breathless, unaware of the tears that were streaming down her face. She first saw Ginnie and grabbed her sister for an enveloping hug; pulling Ginnie tightly to her and sobbing softly into her shoulder._

_“My goodness Clarke, whatever happened to you? Grandmother will be very upset! Were you caught out in the open with the storm? Look at you, your gown seems burnt!” Virginia’s words flew out of her mouth in her usual rush as she eyed Clarke up and down._

_“Yes, yes I was out in Parker’s meadow when the storm blew up. I – I think I may have been struck by lightning Ginnie. I must go to grandmother at once,” she told her sister, heading quickly into the hall._

_Ginnie picked up Clarke’s forgotten art supplies and dropped them with a thump in the hall, where Clarke stood looking around._

_Yes, this is home – the correct home that is. The parquet floor shining brightly and the mahogany table setting next to the settee. All as it should be._

_Her grandmother came from her parlor when she heard the thump of the art supplies in the hallway. She drew in a sharp breath as she looked at Clarke and tut – tutted._

_“Child, wherever have you been? Look at you, your appearance is disgraceful! Honestly Clarke, are you not wise enough to not get caught in the storm like that? Why, I even told you this morning that you should not go about because the weather looked unstable, did I not? But no, you girls never listen to me, no not ever! I tell you and tell you and fret about you always and what good does it do me? Why, not a bit I say.”_

_The commotion brought Jacob Griffin out of his study and he exclaimed loudly when he saw Clarke. “Good heavens child, are you alright?” He wrapped her into his warm arms and only then did she feel safe. She hugged him back tightly and for a moment her knees threatened to give way. Jacob felt that and gathered her up in his arms and carried her into his study with his mother and Ginnie following on his heels._

_“Ginnie, pour Clarke a bit of brandy please.”_

_“Yes father,” she told him as she poured a small amount into a glass and handed it to her father._

_“You are most certainly not going to give her strong spirits Jacob. I will not have it!” Patience rebuked him, but one look at his set expression and she closed her mouth, only to stand there with a sour look upon her face._

_Jacob raised one eyebrow at his mother as he handed the glass to Clarke and said softly, “There Clarke, sip it slowly. It will warm you poppet.”_

_Clarke took a small sip and gasped as the brandy burned her throat. But her father was right; it immediately spread warmth though her chilled body and she started to feel better quite quickly._

_“Thank you father, I do feel better.” She finished the small bit of warm amber liquid in the glass and handed it to Ginnie who was standing by anxiously. Marcella had come into the study as had several of the servants and were all watching the tableau with curious eyes._

_As soon as Ginnie had sat the empty glass down on the table, everyone started talking at once; questions came at Clarke from everyone and finally Jacob held his hand up to silence them all and said, “Clarke, please tell us what happened.”_

_She was silent for a moment as she looked around the room that was full of faces that were so dear to her. Did she dare them the truth or would they think she was out of her senses? In fact she likely was, but it had all seemed so real and so she told them everything that had happened, from awakening and finding Bellamy (she did not tell them of the kiss), the roads, the house – everything she could think of. And as she spoke she realized that she was covered in the mud and filth of the pond and how badly her hands were scratched and torn. She didn’t remember them being thusly a few minutes ago._

_With tears in her eyes, she told them of the cut on her leg and that the doctor had stitched it up. She was scared, but she knew she had to look and so she slowly lifted her skirt up and there on her leg was a bandage, the very one the doctor had placed on her._

_A piteous and pained scream escaped her throat. This could not be true!_

_Could it?_

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dinner had been an uncomfortable affair, for all of them he was sure. Miller had tried to ask more questions about Clarke; questions that Bellamy had no answers to and when that failed, Miller tried switching to other, safer topics since Bellamy had nearly bit his head off several times. Bellamy held his silence and soon Miller stopped trying altogether. The curious thing was that Mercedes was uncharacteristically silent during the whole meal. Bellamy missed the looks that passed between Miller and her; with Miller motioning with his head to Bellamy and Mercedes just shrugging and shaking her head no.

As soon as the meal was over Bellamy scraped his chair back along the parquet floor and left the room, without a word or a backward glance. Miller’s eyebrows rose in surprise and he skewered a gaze at Mercedes and said, “What in the hell is going on with him? Do you know?”

“I have my suspicions Nate. It seems fairly obvious to me. I think our Bellamy has met an immovable object and it is in the direct path to his heart!” she laughed. “Yes indeed I do!” and before Miller could question her anymore, she was gone as well, leaving her puzzled brother standing alone in the dining room, mouth hanging wide open and wondering what in the world was wrong with both of them.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Bellamy had silently entered into Clarke’s room when she hadn’t come downstairs by 10:00 pm. He had knocked softly and when he received no answer he softly opened the door and crept in, walking over to the bed and staring at the still sleeping Clarke. 

 

Her brow was furrowed and she seemed restless. She must be dreaming he decided and after this trying day her dreams were bound to be unpleasant. He gently sat down on the side of the bed and watched her, the memories of this crazy day speeding through his tired brain.

 

He leaned down close to her and smelled something flowery and delicious, most likely whatever she had bathed with, but there was also a hint of something he was already beginning to recognize – Clarke herself. He inhaled her fragrance deeply and felt his heart – and body respond to that intoxicating scent.

 

He dared to lightly brush his lips against hers; a brief tease of a kiss and then he quickly stood up and moved away from the bed. He knew if he didn’t he would kiss her again. And probably again and again. It’s what he wanted; to feel her soft lips clinging hungrily to his own as his mouth moved over hers tenderly, devouring her sweet taste. 

 

_Dammit Bellamy, what is wrong with you? She’s all but unconscious and has had what probably has to be one of the worst days of her life!_

 

He stood near the window and he pulled the draperies apart a bit to look out. The moon was gleaming brightly overhead and Bellamy noticed absentmindedly that it was nearly a full moon. It was already riding high in the inky darkness, obscuring the stars around it. Bellamy remembered a time when he and Miller and Mercedes used to wish on the full moon; all of them wishing for fanciful things or exotic lives. But Bellamy had always been a realist; from the time he was old enough to understand what his family’s business was he knew he would one day be in charge of it and he took that very seriously. So his fanciful wishes were always tempered by the thought that they dare not come true because what would he do if they did? 

 

As a teenager those wishes were of beautiful girls, with willing lips and bodies; any teen age boys dreams. She would come into his life and he would kiss her in the glowing light of the full moon and they would know they were supposed to be together for ever.

 

Those were only wishes Bellamy, not reality he thought with something akin to disappointment. He let out a huge sigh; a sigh of regret but also resignation. His life wasn’t so bad really. He had too much to do and not enough time to do it, but look at how fulfilling it was. Not too many people can claim that he thought with another sigh.

 

He decided his sighs must have been louder than he thought when Clarke became very restless on the bed. Her body was twisting as if she was in pain and he went to her and sat next to her on the bed, reaching out tenderly to her when she suddenly let out a soft scream and sat up in the bed, sobbing.

 

“It’s alright Clarke,” he told her, pulling her tightly to him and rocking her gently against his chest in a comforting gesture. “It’s okay – I’m here, I've got you.”

 

“Bellamy, oh Bellamy, you are here. I thought, I uh – dreamt that I was back home, at my home, my time.” She said those words as her face was nuzzled against his neck and he could feel her warm breath playing havoc with his neck and the softly curling hairs that covered his chest. He also felt a wetness that could only be tears, trickling down his chest as well and they broke his heart.

 

He knew suddenly that whatever was wrong with her, it wasn’t that she was a fraud or liar. She was confused obviously and he was suddenly determined to help her find the truth and her own life.

 

_What if she is married Bellamy? Could you take her back to another man? Someone she possibly loves?_

 

Those thoughts tore at his heart and he thought how foolish of him to think that he already had those kinds of feelings about her. He couldn’t possibly and yet, whatever he felt for her was certainly strong. He had to own that.

 

He held her gently, but firmly to him, stroking her hair and whispering promises that all would be well against her ear. She seemed to quiet a bit as he spoke and Bellamy could only hope that he wasn’t lying – to either of them.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

What finally broke the spell between them made them both laugh – Clarke with embarrassment and Bellamy with abandonment.

 

“Oh my,” Clarke murmured quietly, placing a hand over her stomach. It growled again, louder this time and this time she giggled too, the merry sound escaping good-naturedly from her. She sighed with resignation – there wasn’t any way to disguise it; she was hungry!

 

Bellamy pulled back away from her and Clarke immediately pulled the covers up and drew her knees close to her chest. She rested her chin on them, something that struck Bellamy as a very vulnerable gesture and he quickly stood up and turned away. He hated that she felt so watchful around him, but given his earlier behavior it was perfectly understandable. He casually glanced over his shoulder at her; she had wrapped her arms around her knees and was watching him in the intimate darkness that cloaked the room. The drapes were open an inch or two where Bellamy had been looking out and that was really the only light in the room. He didn’t realize that it afforded Clarke a clear look at his face.

 

He looks almost restrained she decided, watching the light shift across the planes of his face; a face she longed to touch. Visions of her dream came flooding back to her, bringing a bright and warm flush of pink across her face and she dipped her head down, unaware that he couldn’t see it in the dim light. She fought the urge to touch her lips; lips that in her dream had been pressed against Bellamy's as he kissed her and she couldn’t stop her tongue from darting quickly over them. How she wished he would kiss her again!

 

Had Bellamy known her thoughts he would have been only too happy to comply with them. As it was, he struggled furiously with himself. He felt like an animal – he wanted to grab her and pull her body to his, feel her heart pounding as his own was. He finally drug his gaze away from her, overwhelmed with desire. He wondered what on earth was wrong with him; she was hurt and confused and all he wanted to do was to make love to her.

 

At the sound of her tummy rumbling loudly again they both laughed. It broke the spell that seemed to be weaving around them, enchanting them both.

 

He held out his hand to her and said, “C’mon, let’s go get you something to eat, okay?”

 

She nodded her head, desperately glad that the intense moment was gone, for now at least!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers! I hope you enjoyed today's chapter. It was a fun one to write. Do you think that Bellamy is beginning to believe her? Let me know what you think! I love your comments and seeing what you think is happening. 
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> Thanks again for the kudo's and comments, they make my heart melt! 
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> Coming up next, Clarke meets Miller and Mercedes and tries a food she's never heard of and is a bit unsure about how to eat!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Has Clarke finally made a friend? An offhand comment throws Bellamy back into skepticism, but Miller is quite taken with their guest.

 

“C’mon,” Bellamy said again, holding his hand out to Clarke. “Let’s go get you something to eat.”

 

Clarke nodded, a gesture that was almost imperceptible in the darkness and started to swing her legs out of the bed, only to remember that they were basically bare; the tee shirt covered very little. She swallowed hard and looked around for the robe she had used earlier. It was lying over the back of the chair by the desk. In order to get it she would have to get out of the bed.

 

Bellamy stood there watching her for a moment wondering why she was so hesitant. He finally saw that she was looking at the desk and realized that her robe was on the back of the chair so he reached for it and handed it to her and then quickly turned his back so she could get out of the bed and put it on. He decided that was too bad because the brief glimpse he had seen of her legs earlier, on the bathroom floor had been enticing.

 

_God, I’d love to see them again!_

 

Clarke took the robe from Bellamy and was grateful when he turned his back so she could put it on. She was all too aware that he had seen much more than her legs this afternoon in the bathroom and for some reason that started the strange tingle in her stomach again.

 

I must really be hungry, she thought for a moment and then mentally chastised herself. _Clarke, you understand perfectly well that hunger is not the reason for the tingles._ But she knew the reasons for those tingles did not bear up to close examination and she hastily tried to take her mind off the real reasons.

 

“I am – I am ready to go downstairs,” she told Bellamy softly. 

 

When he turned around she was again thankful that the room was dim; he couldn’t see the slight flush that had spread across her face as she vividly remembered this afternoon in the bathing – oh dear she thought, bathroom she amended to herself.

 

She could see Bellamy’s face for a moment as he walked past the spot where the moon was shining through the opening in the draperies. He looked as disconcerted as she felt. But when he caught her looking at him he smiled and she suddenly felt that all was right with the world.

 

“Here,” he said, holding out his hand to her, “let’s go. I’m a bit hungry as well.”

 

She clasped his hand for a moment and a shiver rippled through her body and she quickly let his hand go. He cast a curious look over his shoulder at her and she swiftly looked away, afraid he would see what must surely be written boldly across her face: that he affected her in ways she neither understood nor could control.

 

He shrugged and headed out the door, only pausing briefly to make sure she was following him. He saw her tugging nervously on the belt on the robe, as if making sure that it was securely tied in place and he smiled faintly; a small smile that tweaked up the corners of his generous mouth and he realized again just how uncomfortable she was feeling. 

 

The hallway was rather dim, only lit intermittently by sconces along the wall but it was enough to see their way to the staircase and down. Bellamy had been traipsing these hallways for most all of his life; he could have run them blindfolded. He didn’t realize that Clarke knew them just as well from all the family visits. 

 

They made their way silently to the kitchen and Clarke marveled again at how easily one made light appear when Bellamy touched the wall. The room was filled instantly with bright light that made Clarke wince at its brilliance. All of these miracles that had to be dealt with in her own time; no striking the flint repeatedly, hoping it would catch the wick and light the lamp or candle. 

 

She had so much to learn she realized. Undoubtedly there were many surprises and delights awaiting her in 2017. That thought brought a spontaneous smile to her and when Bellamy looked up, he smiled in return. She saw his beautiful teeth, so white and perfect and she wondered if there was magic to that as well.

 

What did not occur to her was how easily she was now accepting that she really was in 2017 and that she wasn’t going home.

 

“Okay mademoiselle, what would you like prepared for your feast?” he asked, bowing deeply in the manner of a gallant cavalier. 

 

A slight frown furrowed her brow as she thought about that. She had no idea what kinds of food were available now. Were they different than the food in her time? Surely not, but she had yet to see a single garden here and so she decided to be safe and replied, “Whatever you have that will not trouble you, my bold knight,” she told him, an impish grin spread across her face. 

 

Her words were said playfully, and were accompanied by a wide and generous smile which made Bellamy bow even deeper. He realized that he would do a great deal to get her to smile at him like that again. He opened the refrigerator and started poking around, looking for leftovers. Clarke came to stand next to him and felt the cold air that came from the strange and lighted box. 

 

She held out her hand in surprise, reaching it towards the cold air that was coming from it. She marveled at it, touching first one item then another. All were cold, very cold in fact and she raised her hand to her mouth, pressing it against her lips to feel her chilled fingertips. She sighed and thought of the convenience this machine would bring to life in her own time. No more milk that spoiled after a few days even when kept in the spring house; no wonder the ice was so easy to come by earlier. 

 

She watched Bellamy pull a large container out of the machine and stared as he set it on the counter. He popped the covering off of it and smiled.

 

"Left over spaghetti from dinner,” he told her with a grin. “I’ll just nuke it; it won’t take but a few minutes.” He pointed to a cupboard next to where she was standing and added, “In that cabinet you’ll find plates. Will you get two down for me please?”

 

She followed his pointing finger and opened the cupboard to find the plates and then pulled two out. As she sat them down next to the bowl of ‘spaghetti’ Bellamy asked, “How hungry are you? Do you want a lot?”

 

“What is ‘a lot’,” she asked, unsure of the term.

 

Bellamy scooped out a generous helping onto a plate and said, “That’s mine and it is a lot! Now, what about you?”

 

“Please, not that much,” she told him, dubiously eyeing the large helping on his plate.

 

_Surely he would not eat all that?_

 

He laughed, as if reading her mind. “Yep, I’ll eat every bite. I’m still a growing boy you know!”

 

“You are? Does everyone continue to grow in this time?” she inquired, almost shocked to hear that. Could this be possible she wondered, that people continued to grow. If they could develop privy’s that carried away your waste and machines that kept things cold she supposed anything was possible. But she was already tall enough, she did not want to grow any taller.

 

He looked at her with a puzzled look on his face; his eyebrows were lifted up as was the corners of his mouth. His head was tilted towards his shoulder and he almost looked comical as he thought about her question.

 

“No, it’s just an expression, something we say. Have you never heard it before?”

 

“No, I have not. Do you say it often?”

 

She watched as he placed a smaller amount of ‘spaghetti’ on the other plate for her and nodded her approval when he pointed to it with the spoon. She wondered what ‘spaghetti’ was; it did look very good and smelled even better. He carried both plates to another counter and opened yet another machine and put one of the plates inside of it and closed the door. He touched several numbers on it; each one beeping with yet another sound. Then there was another unidentifiable sound and a light came on inside of the machine and she could see the plate with Bellamy’s spaghetti turning around. After only a minute or so the machine made a very high pitched sound that was almost alarming and Bellamy opened it and pulled out the plate with his food before putting hers in and starting the whole process over again.

 

She could smell the spaghetti now and her mouth watered at the delectable aroma rising from it. Bellamy went to another cupboard and pulled another container out and said, “Wouldn’t be spaghetti without garlic bread, would it?” He sat that and his plate on the table and by the time he had done that the machine was again making what Clarke had decided was an altogether annoying sound and he sat her plate on the table as well.

 

“What would you like to drink?” he asked her, looking in the cold machine again. “Coke or milk? There’s even some wine if you like.” He looked over his shoulder as he waited for an answer.

 

She had no idea what ‘Coke’ was and she did not think wine was a good choice so she asked for milk and watched solemnly as he grabbed two glasses out of another cupboard and sat them and the milk on the table.

 

Steam was rising from the ‘spaghetti’ on her plate and it smelled heavenly. She had never seen anything quite like it. She poked at it with her fork and lifted it up and discovered it was a very long piece of something, quite like a noodle really but still unfamiliar. She scooped some up with her fork to take a bite and then saw that long pieces were hanging down. 

 

_How on earth does one eat this?_

 

Bellamy was twirling his fork around and around, making a sort of ball of the spaghetti and she tried to imitate his actions. She finally got some to stay put on her fork and brought it to her mouth to taste. It was spicy and savory, quite delicious and so she popped the forkful into her mouth and then let out a distressed cry.

 

It was hot, amazingly hot and her mouth felt on fire. Rarely had she eaten something so hot; usually by the time cook got it dished up and it was brought to the dining room and then served some of the heat was gone. She chewed as quickly as she could, tears spiking the corner of her eyes as she swallowed it and then took a long drink of the icy milk. She sighed as she felt the cold milk soothe her tongue.

 

Bellamy watched this with interest. Even when it was clear it was hot in her mouth she just chewed and swallowed. Pretty good manners he decided, but then he felt bad. Didn’t she realize how hot things coming out of a microwave could be? She seemed like a babe in the woods sometimes.

 

Or like someone from a different time who hasn’t ever had anything heated in a microwave.

 

As soon as that thought penetrated his mind he scoffed at his own foolishness. But, that didn’t change the fact that she had burned her mouth and common courtesy made him ask if she was alright.

 

“Yes, it was just very hot. Unexpectedly so,” she told him, still slowly sipping the milk. She sat the half-empty glass down on the table and smiled before adding, “But it is very delicious. I have never tasted such as this before!”

 

Bellamy's eyes narrowed a bit as he listened to her words and he nodded and went back to his own plate of spaghetti. 

 

 _Never had it before? Get real…_ he mused.

 

A light went on in the hallway leading to the kitchen and Mercedes and Miller emerged from it, both looking surprised to find Bellamy and their guest already at the table.

 

Clarke stood when they came into the kitchen and then blushed, remembering that all she had on was the tee shirt and robe. She dipped her head down to hide her embarrassment, but both Mercedes and Miller caught it. Bellamy stood up as well and watched as Clarke delicately curtsied in acknowledgment of the siblings.

 

Mercedes raised her eyebrows in puzzlement and glanced at Bellamy who only shrugged his shoulders. “Ah, you must be our guest, Miss Griffin,” Mercedes greeted her. She held out her hand to Clarke, who only looked at with an expression of confusion on her face. Mercedes hastily withdrew her hand and continued, “Yes, well… You both must have had the same idea as Nate and I. I guess none of us ate all that much at dinner and you Miss Griffin missed out completely! Are you enjoying Mrs. Burton’s spaghetti? It’s been a favorite of ours since we were kids.”

 

“Yes, it is wonderful, but very hot! I am afraid I scalded my tongue on the first bite. I have never had it before, nor anything quite like it actually, but I am enjoying it a great deal.” She kept her head tilted downward as she spoke, as if still embarrassed.

 

Again Mercedes eyebrows rose in surprise but she shrugged and headed over to the refrigerator to get out more spaghetti. They were all quiet as she put helpings of spaghetti on plates for her and Miller.

 

Clarke sat, toying with the fork in her hand and felt awkward. Bellamy had not introduced her to the brother and sister and really, it was quite improper for her to be so forward, but she felt she must. 

 

“Mr. Miller, Miss Miller, thank you very much for allowing me to stay here tonight. I shall make other arrangements on the morrow, but this has been a great convenience for me.” She looked up for the first time and smiled at them both. 

 

Miller felt as if a ton of bricks had hit him when she smiled. It lit up her face, made her eyes appear huge and somehow vulnerable. And there was something else about her, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but that thought soon left his mind when Mercedes sat their plates on the table and put glasses on the table as well for milk.

 

She stopped in her tracks the moment she saw Clarke’s face. “I, uh, Miss Griffin, I think we’ve met. Haven’t we?”

 

A looked of bewilderment spread across Clarke’s face as she stared back at Mercedes. “I – I don’t think so Miss Miller.”

 

I knew it, Bellamy thought. The past my ass, she’s from around here somewhere!

 

“Hm, yes, I’m sure I would have remembered where, but you do have a look of familiarity about you,” Mercedes said, her brows still knit together in thought. Her generous mouth turned downward at the corners in a slight frown as she tried to remember. _Remember what?_

 

Miller sat quietly thinking about what Mercedes had said. There was something about her, but he was sure he would have remembered meeting her as well. She was rather unforgettable. No wonder Bellamy was falling for her already. Miller would have to take care not to let that happen to him. He grinned at that ridiculous thought!

 

Soon Mercedes had her talking about her family, parents, siblings and such. She also talked about the fact that she loved to paint and her hope that someday she might actually sell something.

 

“I know that it is rather over ambitious for women to sell their art, but people do tend to like mine. My father and aunt and uncle all think I am very talented.” She remembered the paintings she had done of this very house and wondered what had happened to them. One of them, her favorite was of the gazebo, with her cousins sitting lazily in the sun. It used to hang in the upper hall gallery. Her mind worked furiously as she tried to think this through.

 

“Miss Miller, an old house like this must have had lots of art work on its walls through the years. I am sure some of it must have been valuable. Do you have it all on display somewhere?” She decided it was a very slim chance that any of the paintings still existed, but one never knew.

 

“I believe there are quite a few still around. Some are hung in various rooms of the house and some of it is in crates stored away in one of the attics. When we were kids we used to love to explore the attics! Are you interested in seeing some of it? If so, I’ll be happy to show you around tomorrow. After we do a bit of shopping and get you some appropriate clothing that is!” 

 

Mercedes smiled at Clarke as she spoke and Clarke realized that she had a friend in the house. Or at least she hoped so!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! As always, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the comments and kudos! This story has reached over a hundred kudos and I'm just filled with joy that people are reading and enjoying it. Your comments and kudos make my day and make it all worthwhile.
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter, Bellamy feels a bit of jealously as he watches Clarke and Miller interact and of course Mercedes notices! She doesn't miss much. Clarke gets a bit flustered when Mercedes explains current undergarments and knows she still has so much more to learn.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The green-eyed monster takes over Bellamy as he watches Miller and Clarke talking. She seemed to trust his friend and even smiled easily at him. Mercedes watches him and delights in his jealously. Later, Clarke feels faint from Bellamy's goodnight kiss.

“After we do a bit of shopping and get you some appropriate clothing that is!” Mercedes told her.

 

Go shopping, Clarke wondered? For clothing? That seemed to be what Mercedes was saying. In her own time one never bought ready-made clothing. Was it possible that she meant shopping for something else? How would one get clothes that fit properly if they were not made specifically for you? And then there was the problem of money – she had none. 

 

Clarke was not sure what to do or say. She could not let these strangers do more than they already were. She needed to find her own way, to take care of herself. But when she looked down at the robe she wore, she realized she needed some help, at least for now; she obviously could not wear this out and about.

 

“Shops, um, they have clothing that is already made? Is that what you mean?” she asked. The thought was almost repugnant to her. Was it used clothing that someone sold or donated? Her grandmother often donated serviceable clothing they had worn a few times to local charities, but no one ever bought it. 

 

“Well yes, of course,” Mercedes said, looking at first Miller and then Bellamy, her eyes asking all kinds of questions. Neither said anything to her and so she added, “Yes, we’ll find you some casual things that you can use while you’re getting back on your feet. Like, oh, jeans and things.”

 

Mercedes watched as what could only be distress flooded Clarke’s face. She bit at her bottom lip and her eyes looked a million miles away. She opened her mouth to speak and then just as quickly closed it again. 

 

After a full minute of silence, which seemed like an eternity to all of them she said, “I, uh, Miss Miller, I do not have any money.” The words shamed her and she wanted to run from the room as she said them. She had never in her life been in a situation such as this; she certainly did not like it either.

 

Bellamy immediately saw how embarrassing this was to Clarke. Having already experienced her strong will earlier he knew what happened next depended on someone saying the right thing and he decided that someone needed to be him.

 

“Clarke, we understand that. But the truth is, you must have clothes. So, we will purchase what you need and then when you are able, you will pay us back. That’s the only way we’ll agree to it. Is this okay with you?”

 

_A loan? He was talking about a loan? How would she ever be able to repay such a sum? She had no family, no home, no job …_

 

And yet it was the only solution, she saw that clearly. He was correct; she must have clothing and some personal items as well. She finally nodded her head, a hesitant movement that still managed to convey her acceptance. “Yes, I will agree to that,” she told them. She was glad that they could not see her hands; hands that were clasped tensely in her lap. But she had made her bargain and she must stick to it.

 

Mercedes spoke up then. “Wonderful! We’ll have fun, I promise you.” She noticed that Clarke had finished all of her spaghetti and commented, “Did you like the spaghetti? Would you like more?”

 

“No, I mean, yes, I did like it, very much, and no, I would not like any more. I feel quite replete now. ‘Spaghetti’ was wonderful. And your garlic bread was quite spicy as well. Are these some of Mrs. Burton’s personal recipes?”

 

“Well, her personal versions but of course just about everyone has their own version of spaghetti. It has to be the most popular Italian dish that American’s eat!”

 

“No way!” Miller interjected. “Pizza has to win that one!”

 

“Wrong again,” Bellamy added, just to be in on the conversation. “Has to be lasagna! Cheesy, gooey, baked to perfection and smothered with Parmesan cheese to boot.”

 

“And these are all ‘Italian’ foods? They are very popular?” Clarke asked, wondering about Italian food. She had heard of it of course, but never tasted any. One time in Providence she had ate something called ‘Italian ice’ which was lemony and icy; certainly not spicy like these dishes though. And of course the country of Italy changed often. Napoleon and Josephine were currently the rulers of the small states that had been conquered by the French army and brought under his rule.

 

“Yes, very popular. Americans seem to appreciate foods from all over the world you know. How on earth have you never had Italian food before?” Mercedes asked. She was becoming more curious every time Clarke spoke. Could it be true, that she was from another time entirely? It seemed impossible – no, it WAS impossible. People didn’t bob around the time stream like corks – did they?

 

Miller was having some of the same thoughts himself. Everything about this young woman, from her demeanor to her speech and even her puzzlement over things that should not be unknown to her intrigued him. Time travel couldn’t be possible, and yet she was certainly an anomaly in this time. Or, possibly just mentally ill, but Miller perceived that she believed this story; that Bellamy was wrong. She wasn’t lying or making it up. Nope, she did believe it and if it wasn’t true, she was the most convincing actress he had ever witnessed.

 

“Have you ever tried Mexican or Chinese food?” Miller inquired. If she really was from 1822, he was willing to bet that ethnic foods hadn’t been introduced into mainstream American diets, outside of having foreign neighbors. And Roberts Folly had very few neighbors and most of the village was of Irish bloodlines with a few Germans and Scots thrown in to keep things interesting. Miller was an arm-chair historian of this area. The mill had kept this community intact for well over a century, adhering to a deep-seated work ethic which strengthened the community, even with the diverse populations of workers it brought in. After the mill closed in the 1950’s the heart of the community seemed to crumble away and was only now starting to recover a bit.

 

Miller knew that the town itself had lots of information on the Griffin family and her story should be pretty easy to check on. For that matter, the original family in this house was related to the Griffin’s. He’d bet there was information in the library here as well.

 

“Yes, I have had Chinese food. When my brother went to the Far East looking at new methods of fabric production he brought back Min Ying, a Chinese woman who worked for us for a while and she sometimes made food from China for us. But it was often difficult for her to find some of the ingredients from her home. She eventually went to work at the mill and married one of the other workers there. They have two children now and live… uh, well they, in the village you know.”

 

“Well, it’s a global world you know and food from all over the world is popular. We Americans like variety. My favorite is Thai food,” Mercedes added.

 

Miller took in the blank look on Clarke’s face and saw that no one else had noticed. Bellamy was getting more spaghetti to heat up and Mercedes was clearing the empty plates. “Siam, I believe you would know it as Siam, Clarke.”

 

He saw tears quickly brighten her eyes and she blinked hard several times to help to dispel them. But she smiled at him and quietly said, “Thank you Mr. Miller.”

 

“Please Clarke, call me Miller. Times are not so formal now.”

 

Her chin lifted a fraction of an inch as she debated on what he had said. What about proper manners? Were they gone as well? Was this man her friend; did he really believe her as he seemed to?

 

He saw her chin lift, a proud gesture, but one also of mixed emotions. It was clear that she didn’t know who to trust; maybe if trust was even an option. Her expression gradually changed as she decided that she needed a friend and said a silent prayer that that trust was not misplaced. She smiled and said softly “Miller then.”

 

The microwave dinged right then and Bellamy removed his plate from it and sat it down on the table. As he sat down he noticed the looks between Miller and Clarke and for one long breathless second he was over-come by blazing jealousy. Clarke was looking at Miller with gratitude and Miller was looking at her, well, as if he believed her. What had he missed? His eyes darted back and forth between his friend and Clarke, undecided as to what to do. He stabbed his fork viciously into the plate of steaming spaghetti, frowning as he did so. 

 

Mercedes had caught it all; Clarke and Miller’s conversation and the look of jealousy on Bellamy’s face. She turned her face away for a moment so no one would see the smile that played upon her lips for the briefest of seconds. Bellamy was jealous of the interaction between Miller and Clarke. Good, that could only help matters because it would make Bellamy try harder. Mercedes recognized the look on Miller’s face and it wasn’t romantic of course. It was one of his ‘causes’ but hopefully Bellamy wouldn’t recognize that fact as easily as she did.

 

As far as she was concerned, Mercedes didn’t know what she believed. Clarke was an enigma, that was for sure. Everything about her screamed that at the very least she wasn’t a modern woman, or at least in the sense of what was commonly accepted. Oh, she was very strong and independent, that much was obvious, but her bemusement seemed genuine when it came to, well practically everything. Mercedes couldn’t help but notice every sound made her jump – mechanical sounds like the microwave. She seemed to have no idea what Italian food was and who for heaven’s sake hadn’t had pizza or spaghetti? She had heard Miller tell her ‘Siam’ instead of Thailand. She mentally shook her head. If it was an act, it was a good one.

 

Mercedes then turned her mind to more practical matters, like shopping. In order to get her to the stores, she had to have something to wear. I certainly can’t take her in the robe. Nothing I have will work she thought ruefully, mentally cursing her diminutive status. Make that no boobs, she laughed to herself. Nor would anything Mrs. Burton might have work. She was as tall as Clarke, but of a much sturdier build. We have no underwear or anything for her. Mercedes saw no choice but to go to the stores first and pick up a few things that Clarke could wear to go shopping. Otherwise, well, there was no other ‘otherwise’. She hoped she was up to estimating Clarke’s sizes.

 

Bellamy was eating his second helping of spaghetti and watching Clarke and Miller get on with ease. He hated that. He stared heatedly at them through narrowed eyes, resenting every smile she bestowed upon Miller and she was throwing out plenty, that was for sure. Miller was telling her about Archer’s Grove and the local area and Clarke was listening with rapt attention; occasionally nodding or asking questions. 

 

“We’re only 50 miles from Boston, so really we are a suburb. Of course it wasn’t always that way. I’m sure that Mercedes will take you into Boston to shop soon.”

 

“All that way? Goodness, how long will the journey take?” Clarke was very curious. She had only been to Boston once and it had taken more than a day to get there. You certainly didn’t go there often to purchase yard goods or millinery supplies. You only went for very special things – things you could not find in Archer’s Grove and really, there was not anything you could not find in the village she thought. A trip to Boston in her own time meant at least an overnight trip. Then she thought back to the ride in Bellamy’s carriage. They had practically flown over the lanes. A trip that took an hour to walk was covered in just a few minutes, so she supposed that Mercedes had a similarly fast conveyance. 

 

“Yeah, we’ll go into Boston, but before we do that I will run into the village and try to pick you up something to wear into the city. Like underwear and maybe some jeans or something. Clarke, do you have any idea about, uh, sizes? I’m sorry to ask, but you and I, well, I’m just not sure.”

 

“Sizes? For the garments you mean? I really am not sure Mercedes.” 

 

She was blushing furiously and Miller stood up and told Bellamy, “C’mon, let’s let the ladies talk fashion. Wanna go see what’s on the late show?”

 

Bellamy caught the grateful look that both Mercedes and Clarke tossed towards Miller and he suddenly felt like the outsider. He stood up abruptly, almost knocking the chair over backwards in his haste to get up and get out of the kitchen. He cast one more dark look at Clarke and Mercedes and followed Miller silently out of the room.

 

Mercedes giggled, realized that he was pouting. Yes, this was all very enjoyable to her!

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The girls finally ended up in Mercedes room when it was obvious that Clarke had no understanding at all of underwear and sizes for anything. She held up some of Mercedes bras, satin and lace affairs that were beautiful to look at but when Mercedes showed her how they were worn, Clarke quickly decided that they looked very uncomfortable.

 

“Well, they aren’t the most comfortable clothing that we wear, but they are necessary. And they look good!” she laughed. “What do you wear to hold your breasts up? Corsets?”

 

A torrid red flush painted Clarke’s face at the word ‘breasts’ and Mercedes suppressed a grin. Clarke stood there fingering the lace on one of the bras, her face slowly returning to its naturally healthy color.

 

“We wear chemises, that lace up. We don’t usually wear corsets. Our dresses are empire style, so corsets are not generally needed, although some of our older ladies still wear them. They look horrible to be truthful; I cannot understand how women wear them.”

 

"Interesting. Women later in the 19th century go back to wearing them, but I don’t really know when. They were very important garments during the civil war and later in the Victorian age. Women’s maids would lace them so tightly that ladies often fainted because they couldn’t breathe!” 

 

Clarke drew in a sharp breath and her eyes opened wide at Mercedes words. “My goodness, why would they want to do that? It sounds like torture!”

 

“Yes it does sound that way doesn’t it? Women then and now will go to almost any length to look good. We torture ourselves, no one needs to do it to us I promise you. “Well, I guess your age of comfort didn’t last more than a few decades. I can promise you that bras have to be much more comfortable than corsets and panties much more comfortable and cooler than bloomers!”

 

“Mercedes – do you believe me? About, uh, being from 1822 I mean?” Clarke watched Mercedes face closely, trying to determine exactly what she thought.

 

“Clarke, I believe that you believe it. I don’t know how it could be possible and it certainly seems highly improbable, but for now let’s just agree that you certainly aren’t from here and now, okay? We’ll eventually figure it all out I’m sure.”

 

Clarke nodded happily – it was enough for now.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

They eventually went downstairs at 1:00 am to find both the men asleep in deep easy chairs in front of the TV. An old movie was playing, but Mercedes didn’t know what it was. It must not have been too thrilling she thought if it couldn’t keep these two awake!

 

Clarke let out a small gasp at the TV but said nothing. She stared at it though and went towards it and touched the screen. It was a 52 inch flat screen and when her fingertips grazed it, she jerked her hand back at the feeling of static electricity. Her small exclamation woke up both Bellamy and Miller.

 

“Did you get things figured out?” Bellamy asked, sitting up and stretching his cramped body.

 

“Something like that,” Mercedes laughed. “C’mon you too sleepy heads, let’s all go to bed. There’s lots to do tomorrow!” Mercedes noticed how Bellamy and Clarke were staring at one another and as they all started to move out towards the staircase she called out to Miller, “Hey, wait a minute bro! I want to ask you something.” She decided a couple of minutes alone would do both Bellamy and Clarke a lot of good. And she watched as Bellamy wasted no time either. As he and Clarke headed up the stairs he had his hand on the small of her back protectively. She smiled with satisfaction, causing Miller to look at what she was smiling at. He smiled too and reached out and hugged his sister. 

 

This couldn’t be easy for her, he thought. She had always wanted Bellamy, but this visit had been different. Even before Clarke came along and he was proud of Mercedes. 

 

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “What, maybe 5 minutes or so to say good night?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, that seems about right!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Clarke and Bellamy stopped at her door and stood wordlessly for a moment. Clarke wanted to say something, anything to help get past this moment. It felt awkward and uncomfortable and she wasn’t exactly sure why. Bellamy stood quietly watching her and it made her even more uncomfortable. She dipped her head down again to hide her feelings.

 

“No Clarke,” he said softly and Clarke was surprised when she realized his lips were close to her ear. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear and her neck and it sent a shiver up her spine. “Don’t hide your face away from me, please. Sometimes it’s the only way I can tell what you are thinking, feeling…” He leaned his forehead against hers and felt her breath softly move against his lips.

 

Clarke swallowed; she felt as if her heart was in her throat she was so nervous. And that heart was beating furiously and she also felt short of breath, as if she had run a long ways. But she raised her eyes, those striking sapphire eyes that nearly took his breath away, to his and he saw that she was again biting her lower lip – and that it was trembling, despite her effort. He bent his head and softly kissed each eyelid. They were tender, fluttering kisses and he wrapped his arms around her to pull her closer. His lips moved down her face and found her lips.

 

They were indeed trembling slightly, but they felt warm and soft and they melted against his at the first gentle contact. Her whole body leaned into his, as if she was afraid she couldn’t stand on her own and she wrapped her arms around his waist and held him close as well. The kiss went on for several minutes but it was a gentle kiss, meant to allow Clarke to feel trust for him, to feel cared about.

 

And she did. The kiss was so different from the kisses this afternoon. And although she did not really understand passion, she perceived the difference in the kisses and relaxed in Bellamy’s embrace. In fact, when he pulled away she wanted to pull him back to her but instead took a step back and a deep breath.

 

Her head was spinning wildly from the kiss, from emotions she knew nothing of. Her knees started to crumple and Bellamy quickly noticed and scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. 

 

“Are you alright Clarke? Should I get you something or call Mercedes?”

 

Clarke emphatically shook her head no; she did not want anyone to see her like this. Her head was still spinning and her belly was fluttering wildly as she tried to calm her ragged breaths. She crossed her arms over her chest because she realized that her nipples had grown hard with what could only be arousal and she was embarrassed for Bellamy to see. 

 

But part of her wanted him to see, to know what she was feeling because maybe he could explain to her what was happening.

 

He left her soon afterwards without another kiss and she lie there in the darkness of the room, thinking about that kiss and why her body was reacting in ways she had never experienced before. It was a long time before sleep finally came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has Clarke finally surrendered to the feelings that Bellamy stirs in her? And has Bellamy finally decided that she is telling the truth? Only time will tell. But are they both living in a fantasy world that is bound to come crashing down upon them? 
> 
>  
> 
> You have all make me so happy with your comments and kudos! I feel so blessed! Please don't stop, they keep me inspired.
> 
>  
> 
> The first story in my 5 part series titled Around the World is up. Bellamy and Clarke travel to Africa. If you haven't read **African Drums** yet, let me know if you like it.
> 
> Next chapter, Clarke thinks about Bellamy's kiss and realizes her body is responding to her thoughts. What will she do about it? And Mercedes brings her some clothes and helps Clarke become a bit more accustomed to the items in the bathroom before the trip to Boston.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke discovers that maybe her grandmother didn't tell her everything, somethings you just have to figure out for yourself. Mercedes arrives with shopping bags and helps her to figure out the new clothing. But will she like it?

Light was just beginning to peek through the edges of the drapes when Clarke fell back asleep. She’d slept for quite a few hours earlier in the evening and that combined with thinking about Bellamy and the kiss managed to keep her up through the night time hours. It didn’t upset her really, but it certainly didn’t help her confusion over her body’s reaction to Bellamy and his kiss.

 

Her body had felt on fire, but in a wonderful way – alive and tingly. 

 

In her world women, unmarried women did not let themselves be kissed like that and she doubted also that her reaction to it was proper either. My goodness, if it made everyone feel the way it did me, no one would ever get anything else accomplished. A smile came to her when she thought about all the children that ran around in her time. Many families had a half dozen or more. Maybe she just figured out why!

 

Even though she had been brought up a lady, she was a product of her times and understood about mating. Although, she had to admit the ritual seemed rather perfunctory to the animals in their stables. She thought that it seemed like Spottie, their brood mare often seemed to only tolerate it when Shadow, their stallion did his business. There wasn’t anything pleasant looking about it, which is one of the reasons most children paid little attention during mating season.

 

She knew that basically a man and a woman mated in much the same way and that is what produced children. But certainly what happened with a man and a woman wasn’t like Spottie and Shadow? What she felt when Bellamy kissed her, held her close made her tremble, made the muscles in the pit of her stomach tighten and she ached to know – more. There had to be more, she knew it and yet she did not really know it. 

 

She and Ginnie had talked about what happened in the marriage bed but neither really knew anything. Sex was never talked about, not sex between people anyway and not in her social class. Maybe others, but even that she didn’t know for sure. She had surreptitiously watched Bridget, one of the maids with Malcolm who was one of the grooms ‘sparking’ when they thought no one else was watching. She watched how Bridget would exaggeratedly sway her hips when she walked and Malcolm would pat her on her behind, then there would be giggles and whispered words and Clarke knew there was more to it than what she saw.

 

But exactly what she did not know. 

 

As she lay there and remembered the kisses today, in the afternoon and at her door a while ago her face became flushed, from something she didn’t quite understand. She remembered Bellamy seeing her on the bathroom floor earlier and the fact that she couldn’t help but notice that he had become, she struggled for a word here but decided the word she needed was aroused as he looked at her. Her face flamed with the memory of seeing him. His breeches became very tight in front and she could clearly see the outline of him in them. It looked very large and she wondered about that fitting into her body. She had no doubt that it could – she was sure that Bellamy wasn’t any different than most men. And – she remembered Shadows very large appendage fitting into Spottie. So she did not doubt that it would fit, but would it hurt?

 

So many things she did not know or understand. Grandmother would never talk about such things until they were to be married, so that meant that none of the girls really knew anything. She had explained to them all about their monthly flows, but that was the extent of their physical knowledge.

 

Her fingers lightly traced her lips, reliving Bellamy’s kisses. They were very stirring, not only the more passionate ones this morning, but the gentle kisses at her door earlier. Both had stirred her, made her muscles contract and her stomach churn. Her blood had sung through her veins and again now as she remembered, her nipples became hard. 

 

Her fingers lightly touched them, exploring them as she never had before. She had basically never paid any attention to them truth be told. The light caress of her fingertips made them ache even more and she wondered what Bellamy's hands would feel like on them. Would they be soft or rough? Would they caress gently or rub a bit firmly? She found her fingers doing what she thought about and soon she realized that the ache was again vibrating though her body. She touched herself between her legs, the spot that was aching the most and she felt like she was throbbing.

 

She didn’t understand. Was this normal or was something wrong with her? Do all women feel this? She instinctively drew her legs together, clenching the muscles tightly and a very pleasant sensation flowed through her, causing her to draw in her breath sharply and her toes to curl.

 

She couldn’t help but touch herself; very lightly and tentatively. She discovered she was wet there, but not like she had used the bathroom. The wetness was thick and as she spread it around something miraculous happened. Her whole body clenched and the most wonderful sensations flowed though her and she felt her body contracting, especially her legs and stomach. Her eyes were squeezed shut very tightly as she concentrated on just getting her breath and not screaming it felt so good. It felt amazing and suddenly she felt much more relaxed. As she lay there her breathing returned to normal and she wondered what had happened. What was that amazing thing that had just happened? And would it happen again?

 

And was she bad for doing that? She knew her grandmother would tell her that she was, but she didn’t think about that too much. She was in a new world and she had to learn new things and ways. This would just be one of them she decided before falling off to sleep, for the second time that night.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Someone was knocking on her door she realized coming awake suddenly. The clock said it was 9:49 and she sat up in bed and called out: “Come in.”

 

Susan, the maid she had met yesterday came in with a tray for her and pointed to the desk with a tilt of her head. Clarke nodded and stretched as she sat on the side of the bed. 

 

“Thank you Susan,” Clarke told her as she stood up and reached for the robe that she had tossed over the chair. She slipped it on and tied it firmly about her waist and realized she felt wonderful.

 

“Mrs. Burton would like to know how you are feeling this morning. If you think you need to see the doctor again?” Susan asked, opening the drapes to let the fresh morning sunlight stream into the room.

 

Clarke sat at the desk and lifted the lid on the covered plate, inhaling the aroma of eggs and ham appreciatively. “I feel wonderful this morning Susan. You may tell Mrs. Burton that. I don’t think I will need to see the doctor. Oh, and please thank her for this wonderful breakfast as well. That will be all,” she said dismissively without another glance at the maid. 

 

Susan shrugged and left the room, closing the door behind her. She hadn’t ever met anyone who treated her in such a manner. _I know I’m a maid, but waiting on people like this isn’t part of my job! She acts like servants are only there to please her._

 

Clarke ate the scrambled eggs, ham and toast that was on the tray and drank the juice and the tea. She was hungry and it all tasted good except for the toast. The bread had little texture and even less taste. But she ate it anyway, spreading it liberally with some blueberry preserves that were also on the tray.

 

She was sitting back and sipping her tea when there was another knock on the door. She bid the person to come and Mercedes opened the door and had several packages in her arms.

 

“Good morning Clarke! Mrs. Burton said she had sent up breakfast for you so I figured it was safe to come on up. I went into the village this morning and bought you a few things. Hopefully at least some of it will fit. We can return what doesn’t. Except for the underwear that is!”

 

Mercedes began opening bags and dumping various things onto the bed. Intrigued, Clarke went over to examine the new clothing and listen to Mercedes explanations of what everything was. 

 

“I got you a couple of shirts, just tee shirts really that will be fine I’m sure. Jeans”, she said holding up a pair of the blue breeches like the ones that Bellamy had worn yesterday. Mercedes also had a pair of them on today. “These are trickier, hopefully they’ll fit. I also bought a sundress that will probably be okay, just in case. And of course I bought you a bra and panties,” she told her holding up the ‘panties’. 

 

Clarke stared at the ‘panties’ that Mercedes was holding up and laughed. It was a far cry from the undergarments she normally would wear. But undoubtedly much cooler. She reached out to touch them and they felt silky to the touch, very nice really she told Mercedes.

 

“Okay, why don’t you go and take a shower and then you can try all of this on and we can see what fits.” Mercedes told her, sorting through the things on the bed.

 

This was a moment of truth. Clarke still did not understand that ‘bathroom’ very well and she stood there silently debating whether or not to just ask. Mercedes seemed to be helpful and kind, but what if she really was not? She might laugh, or even tell Bellamy how silly Clarke was. But suddenly, she decided to just trust that Mercedes would not do that. At any rate, Bellamy already thought Clarke very silly she was sure, so it probably would not matter.

 

“Mercedes? I – I really could use some help with the bathroom. Yesterday I accidentally turned the ‘shower’ on and it made a mess. Will you show me how it all operates? Please?” 

 

Mercedes looked at her and saw that Clarke was scared to death and totally sincere. Her heart went out to Clarke and at the same time she offered up a silent prayer that Clarke wasn’t playing them all. But her face was that of someone genuinely confused, not someone who was sly.

“Sure, c’mon. It’s not as complicated as it all looks.”

 

She gave Clarke a complete run down on the operation of everything including blow dryer and the battery operated toothbrush. And she didn’t forget the necessary information about the soaps, gels, shampoos, conditioners, bath salts, toothpaste and mouthwash, and hair care options like hairspray. Clarke stood and listened intently, trying to remember it all. She would not want to use the toothpaste instead of hair gel she decided.

 

Mercedes flipped the switch on the toothbrush and it came on with a soft whirring sound. She had put toothpaste on it first and told Clarke, “Go ahead, rub it over your teeth. It will feel good, I promise. No, wait, not quite that hard. There you got it,” she said as Clarke seemed to get the hang of it. A look of bliss came over her face as she used the appliance. After several minutes Mercedes stopped her and told her a couple of minutes were plenty.

 

Clarke rinsed her mouth and marveled at how wonderful her mouth felt. Her teeth felt slick, in a way they hardly ever did. She looked at Mercedes with a wide grin, trying to show as many of her teeth as she could. 

 

“That is amazing. Does everyone use these on their teeth?”

 

“Sadly no, but you realize pretty quickly who doesn’t – you can smell their breath a half mile away,” Mercedes told her with a wry laugh. “Okay, most of these products have instructions on them if you forget. Oh, I – uh, you can read can’t you?” She felt terrible because what if she couldn’t?

 

“Yes, I can. I have been to school and to finishing school as well. I have a head for arithmetic and reading. Papa believes girls need schooling as well as boys.”

 

“Great. Well, I’ll come back in say 15 minutes? Does that give you enough time to shower?” As Clarke nodded her head Mercedes headed out of the bedroom.

 

Clarke loved the shower, now that she understood how to use it properly and enjoyed the wonderful smelling soaps and things. She was just finishing when Mercedes knocked on her door again. 

 

“It’s just me Clarke, are you ready to dress?” she called from the hallway.

 

“Yes, please come in. She sat at the chair brushing her hair, which she kept from getting wet by using the ‘shower cap’. She couldn’t wait until later to wash her hair again and try out the blow dryer!

 

“Okay, well, let’s start with the panties. You just sort of slip them on over your legs; well I’m sure you know how to do that. She started to turn around but Clarke just dropped the towel. She often had servants dry her body and help her dress; modesty didn’t really come into it. 

 

She picked out a pair of silky pink panties and slid them on. They were very low cut, with lace along the front and very stretchy. She had never felt anything like them before.

 

“I wonder if the mill ever made anything like this?” she mused out loud.

 

“I don’t know what type of fabrics the mill made. We’ll spend some time in a few days checking if you’d like. I’m sure you must be wondering what happened to your family.”

 

“Yes, I would like that. The doctor told me a little, but I must admit I am curious. What is next?” she asked, pointing to the pile of clothes.

 

“The bra. I bought two, of different sizes because I wasn’t at all sure which one. Hopefully one of them will fit well enough for today. Here, try this one on first,” she told her, handing Clarke a white bra with little pink and purple flowers on it. “Slip it on like this and then it fastens in the back. You’ll get the hang of it soon.”

 

“I’ll just have Susan help me,” Clarke told her as she tried to fasten the bra on her own.

 

“Well, that’s not really a part of her job. She helps Mrs. Burton around the house, cleaning and such – that’s what her job is.” Mercedes told her.

 

“Oh, well then anyone of the chamber maids Bellamy do then.” She let out a long breath in frustration as she tried yet again to fasten the bra.

 

“Here, let me help you,” Mercedes told her, quickly fastening the bra. Then she added, “We don’t have any chamber maids, or well any maids that help us to dress. That’s not, um, well maids don’t do those kinds of things any longer Clarke.”

 

Clarke stood tugging at the bra. It was not really tight she thought, but it was very uncomfortable. But it held her breasts up very nicely she decided. They looked very presentable. She finally smiled and then thought about what Mercedes had just told her. “No one helps you dress? How do you manage your wardrobe?”

 

“We just do it ourselves. You’ll get used to it, trust me!” she laughed. “Now, try on the jeans and we’ll see how they fit.”

 

Clarke pulled the jeans on and while they were a bit loose around the waist, they weren’t too bad. It felt strangely free to be in breeches. She decided she liked it. She looked at herself in the mirror and decided she like it a lot! A tee shirt went on next and she was dressed. 

 

She stood looking at herself in the mirror for a moment. She was Clarke, and yet she wasn’t. She wasn't sure if she looked presentable by the social standards of 2017, but by her own standards she looked – appalling was the only word that came to mind. Grandmother would have apoplexy she decided. Which struck her as hideously funny.

 

“What’s so funny?” Mercedes laughed.

 

“I was thinking about my grandmother’s reaction to these clothing choices. She would have apoplexy!” Clarke laughed again as she pictured her grandmother’s face.

 

“Is she pretty straight-laced?”

 

“I am not exactly sure what you mean by that,” Clarke said to Mercedes as she turned around and tried to peek over her shoulder to see her back in the mirror.

 

“Um, I guess ‘conservative’ would be a good substitute. Or maybe ‘very conservative’ would be better. Does that sound like her?”

 

“Yes, it does. Women in my time do not ever, under any circumstances wear breeches – uh, jeans!”

 

“Well, times have changed Clarke,” Mercedes told her, “Too bad she can’t see you. Now, I just grabbed a pair of flip-flops for you to wear. You really must try on shoes to get a good fit, but these should do.”

 

“Flip-flops?” Clarke questioned.

 

“Uh, sandals?” Mercedes offered.

 

At the blank look on Clarke’s face she just handed her the shoes which Clarke slipped on. “Okay, you’re ready to go. Let’s go shopping,” Mercedes said with a laugh.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bellamy and Miller stood chatting while they were waiting for them. When they came downstairs Bellamy could only stare at Clarke in the jeans. They made her long legs look even longer and while Bellamy was speechless, Miller was not. He chuckled and spoke softly so only Bellamy could hear, “Close your mouth, Bell.”

 

“Wow – you look wonderful Clarke! Very nice indeed.” He ignored the hard stare that Bellamy threw in his direction and said, “Bellamy and I have decided to go with you. We’ll take care of a bit of business while you shop and then tonight we’ll go somewhere really nice for dinner, so Mercedes, buy something nice!”

 

Bellamy was still quiet, saying nothing Clarke noticed, but his eyes were alight with approval. She knew that anyway. And then she smiled at him and suddenly it was only the two of them in the room. Clarke felt her breath catch in her throat and let out a shaky sigh. Mercedes and Miller left the room, heading out the front door where Miller had already pulled the car up for them to get into. 

 

“You look amazing Clarke, really beautiful. Are you sure you are up to this trip?” he asked her. He was lost in those blue eyes again, the color of the brilliant blue sky today and then he quickly licked his lips and leaned down to lightly kiss her soft lips. 

 

Clarke closed her eyes and felt his lips on hers and sighed. She could quite easily get used to this. But then she remembered that he had asked her a question and she pulled back.

 

"Yes, I feel fine actually. Maybe a bit stiff, but I am sure that activity will help me.”

 

Her face was pressed against his shoulder and her heart was beating a rapid staccato in her chest. She inhaled deeply pulling the scent deeply into her, “You smell good,” she told him She could follow him anywhere with that scent.

 

Bellamy laughed when he told her he wasn’t wearing anything and admitted he liked the way she smelled too.

 

“Well, I am not wearing anything either,” she told him, blushing at the intensity of his look.

 

“I guess we make a perfect pair then,” he told her. “C’mon, let’s take Boston by storm!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naughty Clarke, hmm? Oh well, experimentation is good for the soul, right? Bellamy just can't seem to focus on anything when he sees her, anything other than how much he wants her at least.
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> Thank you all so much for your support for this story! Love you all SO much because your comment and kudos make it all worthwhile.
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> Next chapter - Clarke again is bemused by the car ride and gets an earful of the Beatles she is still worried about the trip to Boston, but Bellamy realizes it and helps her to feel more confident. Meanwhile, Mercedes makes shopping into an adventure for Clarke. But oh, the end! Sorry, but not really.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mall proves to be a scary and life changing experience for Clarke as she learned what 'hitting the stores' and 'burning plastic' were. Still, Bellamy tries to help her a bit before leaving her with Mercedes. But if she only knew what was going to happen she might very well have refused to go. Sorry about the end but then you knew that there would have to be angst involved, right?

Although she did not tell them, she was very anxious about riding in the carriage again. It moved so fast and made such an awful noise. She realized almost everything in this time made some type of sound, and most of those sounds were very alarming or at the least annoying. Did people not appreciate how wonderful quietude sounds? Listening to natures sounds, the gentle fall of the rain or even the crash of a summer storm? 

 

_Possibly progress is not always a good thing._

 

Bellamy kept his hand on the small of her back as they descended the steps down to the drive where the carriage was waiting. He hand was warm and comforting and she sighed a bit with the pleasure of it.

 

This time there was a different carriage sitting in front of the house. This one was bigger with four doors on it. It was a beautiful silver color she thought with admiration. The inside was lovely, dove gray with seats that were very soft. Bellamy opened a door for her and she sat down on the seat. Mercedes took the seat next to her and reached for the belt that fastened her in. Clarke noticed and hastily reached for hers, pulling it around her and fastening it with a sharp ‘click’.

 

Mercedes looked at her with a smile and nodded when she saw Clarke fastening her safety belt. Miller and Bellamy got into the seat in the front with Miller behind the wheel that obviously steered the carriage. After they fastened their belts, Clarke prepared for the roar that the carriage made when Miller turned the key.

 

And she wasn’t disappointed – the noise began immediately as well as music pouring out from somewhere behind her head. She quickly turned her head to try to see where on earth it came from and frowned when she could not see any source for the sounds. 

 

"Nate, could you turn the stereo down a bit please?” Mercedes asked. “It is a bit loud back here so it will be hard to talk.”

 

"Sure, hang on a minute. Just let me get out on the road,” he told her. They were stopped at the end of the driveway waiting for traffic to pass by. When the way was clear, he turned his attention to the stereo, turning it down to a more bearable level.

 

“Sorry Clarke, I tend to listen to the music pretty loud when I’m in the car by myself. I forget that it can blow your ear drums out back there!” 

 

Clarke unconsciously brought a hand up to her ear, as if reassuring herself that it was still there intact. The music was much quieter now which she appreciated but she continued to find herself amazed at what they called ‘music’. It was lots of different sounds, all playing at once, much like an orchestra, but she had never heard an orchestra make these kinds of sounds. 

 

 _The Magical Mystery Tour is waiting to take you away_ Miller hummed along to the song quietly and Bellamy just shook his head. 

 

“I can’t believe you still listen to the Beatles!” Bellamy laughed, as Miller started to sing along with John, Paul, George and Ringo. “Don’t you have anything from this century Miller?” he queried, digging through Miller’s CD collection.

 

Miller looked at Bellamy, his eyebrows lifted in an exaggerated manner and he pointed a finger at Bellamy and said, “I’m supposed to listen to that stuff you listen to? Stuff I can’t even pronounce? Not very likely bud, not very likely…”

 

“Yeah, I noticed you have a hard time saying Bon Jovi or Hootie and the Blowfish! You always were a little slow Miller.” He turned around in his seat, as far as the seat belt would allow anyway and said to Mercedes, “You know, I’d be worried about him if I were you. Anything new might be too much of a shock to his system!” 

"You two just keep me out of this argument! I’ve heard it at least a thousand times over the years and there is no winner.” She smiled at Clarke and said, “Just let them argue it out – they’ll never agree.”

Clarke had only been paying partial attention to the discussion, she had been more concerned with the music; very strange instruments and the words, what she could understand were even stranger.

_Picture yourself in a boat on a river,_  
with tangerine trees and marmalade skies.  
Somebody calls you  
you answer quite slowly  
the girl with kaleidoscope eyes. 

Or at least that’s what she thought the words were. But she certainly did not know what they meant. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The ride into Boston took only an hour of so as time goes, but for Clarke two hundred years passed by. Such things as she had never imagined and had certainly never seen before.

 

Huge carriages flew past them in their carriage that was itself moving alarmingly fast. She learned those vehicles were called ‘trucks’ and they carried everything from cattle to market to supplies for building homes to ‘appliances’, whatever they were. They soon were on a ‘road’ called an ‘interstate’ where there were carriages or cars as the name had been shortened to everywhere. Some were small, some large and they were every color conceivable. She thought them garish and ostentatious and wondered what manner of people would choose to ride in them.

 

They passed villages that Mercedes told her were called ‘suburbs’ to Boston and again the houses were puzzling to her. So small and close together, they were certainly not happily situated at all. They seemed more like little boxes; piled alongside one another and she could not imagine who lived in them. There seemed little beauty for the inhabitants to admire and even less places for that beauty. She did see small gardens here and there; bright colorful patches amidst the pale colored houses. She saw that there seemed to be children on many of the grounds; many children. How did families get so many children in a home that was not even suited to one person’s needs she wondered?

 

When they got closer to Boston there were many more roads, crossing each other; above, below, roads to the right of them and the left. So many people in what seemed like such a hurry to get somewhere. She could not help but wonder where; where were they going? What was so important that they would risk life and limb to climb into their ‘cars’ and drive so quickly and what she decided could only be called haphazardly.

 

Today they were going to someplace called a ‘mall’, which thrilled her. She knew what a mall was, every town or village had one. It was usually the town square, where news was read or posted and people gathered after church to share greetings. Yes, at least she would feel comfortable there!

 

But when they pulled into the mall panic overtook her yet again. This wasn’t a commons or green, it was an extremely large building with cars everywhere and many people heading to the doors going into the building. 

 

“Oh my,” she said to no one in particular. When Bellamy glanced back at her he saw her face had gone quite pale and her hand covered her mouth as her wide, blue eyes that were the color of a turbulent sea right now stared from one thing to another.

 

Mercedes reached over and squeezed her hand, then leaned over and whispered, “It will be okay Clarke. I’ll take good care of you I promise.”

 

Clarke threw her a grateful look and nodded. Bellamy saw the whole exchange and suddenly felt glad that Mercedes was taking Clarke under her wing, so to speak. Then he said, “Okay ladies, we are going to let you off at the main entrance and leave you to shop for a couple of hours. We’ll meet you at,” he frowned for a minute and looked at his watch. “We’ll meet you at 3 0’clock, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Mercedes said. “But where do you want to meet?”

 

Bellamy shrugged, wearing a contemplative look across his handsome face. His beautiful lips were pursed together as he thought about it before stating, “The food court, okay?”

 

“Sounds good,” Mercedes threw over her shoulder as she climbed out of the car. Clarke scooted across the seat to follow her, looking at all the other people who were heading into the mall. 

One more look at Clarke's pallid face brought Bellamy out of the car and he rushed to where Clarke was standing, staring at the building. He pulled her to him in a hug, enveloping her in his warm embrace and felt her bury her face in his shoulder. She was trembling she was so scared and he ran his fingers through her blonde tresses and made soothing sounds to her, as if she were a child.

 

With her body pulled to tightly to him he was very much aware that she wasn't a child and he swallowed harshly and pulled in a deep breath trying to steady himself but his heart was beating frantically and he begin to think this was a bad mistake. 

 

“It's okay, Princess, it will be okay. Do you want me to come with you?”

 

She drug in a deep breath and pulled away from him slowly. She tried to smile at him but it came off as slightly grim and she told him, “No, I can do this.” Another breath and then she added, “I can,” as if speaking to herself.

 

“Okay then” he said softly before tilting her chin up so that he could give her another kiss. “I'll see you later?” He stepped back into the car and settled himself, giving her one last look.

 

She nodded and stepped away and watched as Mercedes shut the door and Clarke watched with what could only be a sense of dread as the large ‘car’ pulled away, leaving them on the walkway to the mall. Mercedes smiled and put her arm though Clarke’s and said, “C’mon, let’s go shopping girl! Wait until you see everything.”

 

Clarke did not understand why it bothered her to see Bellamy pull away, leaving her with Mercedes. She both liked and trusted her, but she was unsettled, wanting to call Bellamy back, back to where she could see him. Instead, she followed Mercedes silently into the mall, sticking closely to her new friend.

 

Inside was loud, an almost impossible to comprehend loudness. It seemed to echo with the voices of hundreds of people and just noise. She couldn’t even identify what most of it was and her eyes, wide with curiosity and she had to admit, excitement took it all in.

 

People strolled past, some carrying many bags and others not. Some pushed prams that held children, laughing and talking a mile a minute. They were dressed in every conceivable manner, from something that Mercedes called ‘shorts’ to beautiful dresses. The dresses were different lengths, from just below the hips to almost ankle-length. But even those were still very improper by the standards of her time. And the shoes! Some had very high heels on them; only the women wore those she noticed.

 

“Goodness, how does one walk in such shoes?” she asked as one such beautifully dressed woman passed by, seeming to only barely balance upon the shiny black shoes. She made sharp ‘click – click’ sounds as she walked by.

 

“Well,” Mercedes laughed, “It’s not quite as hard as it may look, but let me tell you, it isn’t pleasant!”

 

“Why do the men not wear the same type of shoes?” Clarke asked curiously.

 

“Because it’s a mans world Clarke, and women got the short straw!”

 

Clarke frowned and cast a puzzled look at Mercedes. “What straw?”

 

“Uh, it’s an expression Clarke. It just means that um, men still think they are our bosses and we have to do what they say. Despite the fact that we are perfectly able to care for ourselves and have proved countless times throughout the ages that we are as smart as they are and certainly tougher in many ways. Just see what happens if a man were to get pregnant,” she giggled. “That would show them who is boss!”

 

“A man get pregnant? Is that possible now?” Clarke asked, scandalized. How dare a man think that he would be in any way qualified to bring a life into the world. Those important things should be left to women, she thought with a scowl.

 

“No, no,” Mercedes laughed, seeing the scathing look cross Clarke’s face. “I just meant that we, as women can often times endure more. We’ve had to through the centuries, you know?”

 

Clarke looked at her solemnly and nodded her head slightly before Mercedes continued.

 

“Men are usually stronger, brute strength you know. But the fact that they were the ones that went out and clubbed dinner over the head thousands of years ago is a fact that they can’t seem to forget. So, they try very hard not to let us. Despite the fact that we are just as smart, educated and talented as them, they still see themselves as superior. Well, not all men of course, but many of them. So, I’ll bet you are wondering what all this has to do with your question about the shoes, huh?”

 

A brief look of confusion flashed across Clarke’s face and then she smiled as she remembered her question, about the shoes. Mercedes saw recognition in Clarke's eyes and stated, “Well, they are ungodly uncomfortable, so no man is going to wear them. They take balance, and not a little endurance to be able to walk on them for any length of time. Hence, my comment about how we as women can endure more!”

 

“Yes, but if we are as smart, educated and talented as men are, why do we do it?” Clarke asked, clearly confused.

 

“THAT,” Mercedes continued “is the million dollar question! Now, c’mon, let’s go hit some stores! We have plastic to burn!”

 

Clarke didn’t know about why they would hit anything, more or less a store and she didn’t know what ‘plastic’ was or why they should have any need to burn it. However, she was certain that it would not be safe to do here, in this overly crowed place. Still, she took a deep breath and swallowed down her fear before following Mercedes deeper into the mall. Was this what Daniel felt like going into the lion’s den?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It didn’t take her long to discover that ‘hitting the stores’ meant entering them and ‘burning plastic’ meant the strange little cards that seemed to pay for things. She wondered what happened to money.

 

They had been shopping for nearly an hour and Clarke felt exhausted, which surprised her. This wasn’t any kind of exercise that she was used to though, dodging crowds, trying on endless clothes and traipsing in and out of the small rooms to do that. They had bought her some very nice clothes Clarke thought, even if they were unfamiliar in style and cut. They were going to the ‘lingerie’ store next, which Mercedes informed her was the place to buy underwear. “Oh, you’ll love Victoria’s Secret, I promise you,” Mercedes had laughed, trying to juggle the numerous bags and boxes as they walked.

 

“Mercedes,” Clarke said, reaching out a hand that had a bag dangling from it to stop Mercedes as she wove in and out of the crowds. “I have to uh, use the – privy she started to say and then amended, “the bathroom. Where might I find it?”

 

Mercedes stopped in what she called the food court, the place they were going to meet Bellamy and Miller. She sat down at a table and laid all the packages under the table, before pointing to a sign that said “Public Restrooms” and had an arrow pointing down a hallway. “Okay, we can’t take all this in with us, so I’ll sit here with the packages. When you are done, I’ll go myself!” she declared.

 

“Just down that hallway then?” Clarke confirmed.

 

“Yes, just down there. Follow the signs, okay? When we’re done we’ll take a break and grab a Coke!”

 

Clarke glanced nervously down the hallway that had many people coming and going in it. She was sure it was safe enough, but still it was frightening to think she was going to be away from her friend, even for a moment in all this madness. But she took a deep breath and headed off, looking over her shoulder at Mercedes as she did so. Mercedes was sitting back in the chair, her feet up on a chair opposite of her with her head leaning back and she was wearing a blissful expression on her face.

 

That was the last she would see of Mercedes for many weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I cannot express how much your support for this story means to me. Every kudo, comment and hit makes me smile! That said, hang in there with me.
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> What happened to Mercedes? Hmm...
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> On another note, if you use Facebook, you can look me up there at Cyndy Klein Hodge or on Twitter @Hopesjourney226. If you do use FB are you aware that there are 100 groups on there to join? I've tried several and most of them have really turned me off because of all the fighting and attacking people for who they like and Bellarke shippers seem to get the worst of it. But I found one that is really awesome. The 100Worldkru. Check it out, they are really great there and do not allow people to be rude or antagonistic to anyone! Tell them Cyndy said hi! Addy below:
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> https://www.facebook.com/groups/2108205869255523/?multi_permalinks=2211922298883879%2C2211936405549135%2C2211925835550192¬if_id=1560536719564830¬if_t=group_activity&ref=notif
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> Next chapter: Things start to rev up a bit from here on. As Betty Davis once said "Fasten you seat belts, it's going to be a bumpy ride." Am I sorry? Not really, nope, not at all! 
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> Bellamy finds Clarke but there is no sign of Mercedes and their small group starts to panic. How will Bellamy handle the situation in amidst his concerns for keeping Clarke safe? Stay tuned!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy finds Clarke in the chaos and finds a way to help her...except he can't stop his feelings of it being the wrong move.

Clarke cast one last look over her shoulder at Mercedes and headed into the hallway, following the signs that said ‘Public Restrooms’. The hallway was packed with people; loud people laughing and calling out greetings to one another and quiet people, just trying to get through the mob to wherever it was they were going. 

 

Above the long hallway was a window looking upwards to the sky Clarke noticed. She had never seen a window where the ceiling was supposed to be and it fascinated her and was also a bit frightening as well. It did not seem real or secure really. She did not understand why, she just knew that it made her uncomfortable. And through that window she noticed that black, billowy clouds were crawling by accompanied by bursts of lightning that hurt her eyes as she watched. They were the same kind of clouds, the same sort of storm that brought her here and that fact almost stopped her in her tracks. 

 

_She would welcome the ability to go home wouldn’t she? To see her family again? Wouldn’t she?_ She realized that a frown was furrowing her forehead as she thought of home; her own time that is. Does she really want to leave here? In truth didn't she feel like here, like Bellamy was her true home? She didn't understand why she felt that way, she barely knew him and yet, when he held her in his strong arms she felt so safe and happy. But what did that really mean anyway?

 

She could not hear any lightning and yet she knew it must be roaring outside. She was looking upward when one terrible flash was visible and it hurt her eyes, making her blink suddenly and bringing tears to her eyes. She hastily averted them and hurried on to the bathroom, anxious to get back to where Mercedes was waiting. Besides, she didn’t know what a ‘coke’ was and was excited to try something new!

 

She found a doorway with a drawing of a stick figure that appeared to be wearing a very short skirt. Above it the sign said ‘Women’ so she was sure she had found the right place. Inside was a very large room, with many separate ‘privies’ which for some reason was a relief to her. She hadn’t really thought about having to do her business in front of so many people, but the sight of the doors made her smile broadly. Shaking her head at her own fears she noticed that there was a line of women waiting their turn and so she joined the line to wait with them.

 

The room was huge she noticed with what turned out to be 12 doors. She counted them as she waited in line. There was a bank of sinks along an opposite wall and women and girls were moving back and forth in the room from one area to another. Some were looking in the mirrors hung along the wall by the sinks and Clarke was amazed by the extravagance of all the mirrors. In her own time mirrors were a luxury; some homes didn’t have any. To have even a small one in your home noted a certain amount of prosperity. Here, in this time she had seen them everywhere and everyone seemed to take them for granted. Was this society so rich that the expense no longer mattered or were they no longer so dear and costly she wondered?

 

As she waited her curious gaze again turned to the people waiting with her. Dressed in every conceivable or to her, inconceivable manner she smiled at the colors, the vibrancy and distinction of their chosen garments. And even more interesting was the way the women’s hair was done; sometimes spiky and colored brilliantly, much like a parrot she had seen once. Some of their faces were painted as well, blue and green around their eyes, or black outlines. It made them all rather scary to her and while she realized that they were serious about their chosen looks, she could not help but be secretly amused at some of them. Which she tried very hard to keep to herself!

 

Amusing and perplexing to her also were the bits of conversation she caught. Some of it made no sense to her at all; strange words and phrases and as she looked around she realized she must be the only person who didn’t understand.

 

_"…yeah, well I told him what he can do with the blue ray player, we can’t afford that shit…”_

__

__

 

_“…she told me I had to download all that data with the ftp program from the server, but the damn thing doesn’t work. It scrambled all the network data and I spent 12 hours trying to get the bugs out and then to top it all off she fired me!"_

 

Clarke raised her eyes at that last snippet of conversation and wondered why someone would serve bugs, much less scramble them. She was still wondering about that when it was her turn to use one of the privies, which she had heard someone call a ‘stall’ and she moved into it, wondering about the cleanliness of the area. It looked okay, but goodness there were so many people coming and going she hoped all was well. Her grandmother would never let them use such a public privy but Clarke was beyond caring by that point, she had to use it or disgrace herself.

 

She had just finished when there was a tremendous boom that echoed through the room and the lights went off. She felt the walls shake and couldn't help the small cry that escaped her. Women started screaming and rushing trying to find the door and Clarke was swept along with them, trying very hard to keep her feet beneath her because if she were to fall she knew she would be trampled. Out in the hallway things were even worse although there was at least some light from the window above. She was carried away into the crowd, a small cork being bobbed along an ocean of humanity. 

 

Someone yelled that the mall was on fire and then suddenly water was streaming down from overhead and she could hear cracking and spitting sounds around her and she tried desperately to follow the crowd who were headed towards an outside door.

 

Suddenly she was outside, along with hundreds of other people; people who were crying and yelling out names and it was then that Clarke first thought of Mercedes, who possibly was still inside the mall. Rain was pouring down from heavy black clouds and no longer was there an absence of sound, thunder boomed loudly, deafeningly overhead; practically taking her breath away it was so frighteningly loud.

 

She felt lost for a moment, the same feeling she had when she had been transported in time. Her head was filled with a roaring silence and each breath ripped through her, tearing her lungs apart as her heartbeat pounded in her head. She knew she must be going home and for some reason she felt sad. All she could think of was Bellamy’s eyes as she crumpled to the ground.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Suddenly the roaring stopped, in a manner of speaking anyway. The rain was still pouring down in streaming buckets and the thunder was still crashing wildly and Bellamy’s arms were around her, holding her tightly. She didn’t know if it were tears or rain running in torrents down her chilled and grateful face; she only knew that Bellamy was there and she was safe with him. Without a thought she pulled his face down and kissed him; kissed him with all her heart, every emotion singing through that kiss – fear, gratitude, love…

 

“Mercedes? Bellamy, she was inside. You must find her!” she told him, choking back a sob as she struggled to sit up in Bellamy’s arms. She looked around, looking for Miller and she when she did not see him fear again raced through her, searing down her spine in breathless spikes. 

 

“Shh, Miller is looking for her now. It’s okay Clarke, it’s okay…” his voice trailed off softly. He held her close and felt her trembling body against his own and realized they were both shaking. He told himself that it was all the cold rain but in the twisting pit of his stomach and the quaking of his heart he knew that wasn’t true. He had been scared to death when the storm had come up so quickly; terrified that it had come to snatch her away from him. “It’s okay sweetheart…”

 

For a moment she rested her cheek against his chest, breathing in the scent of him, now warm and so achingly familiar. A horrendous crashing sound pulled her away from him and she stood shakily to see part of the mall collapse as flames shot up through the wreckage, despite the hammering rain. People were everywhere, it seemed like thousands to her and yet the one face she wanted to see was nowhere to be found.

 

Fire trucks were roaring to the scene and police were trying desperately to move the people out away from the building to that the trucks could get in closer. It was a scene of extremes; some people were standing wordlessly, staring in shock at the devastating sight before them, others were milling aimlessly about, sobbing and begging for someone to help them find their loved one, their friend…

 

Miller found them then, coming upon them in a rush and he grabbed Clarke for a quick hug, looking around the crowd hoping to see Mercedes by this time.

 

“Did you not find her Miller? Please, you must find her!” Clarke pleaded with him, her blue eyes imploring him sadly even as she stared at the fire and the mad scene around them.

 

“No, I didn’t. I’m – I’m sure she must be here somewhere. There are hundreds of people scattered all around the mall, outside I mean. We have to stay calm, I’m sure she’s fine. We just have to find her, that’s all.” Miller didn’t realize that he was babbling by then, his fear over-riding his will to remain calm. “Yes, I’m sure she is fine,” he repeated, more to himself than them.

 

The police were moving everyone back more by then and Bellamy asked the officer “Is there somewhere or someone who is keeping track of people who were in the mall? We’re missing someone,” he finished, hoping that the officer would have some helpful news.

 

“I’m sure there is or will be soon, but I don’t know where to send you yet sir. If you could just be patient, we’re trying to get everything organized.” At that moment the officers’ radio microphone that was attached to his shoulder crackled and he bent his head to listen for a moment as they watched. “Roger, 214 out. Sir, I’ve just been told that they are trying to gather everyone by the Chelsea Street entrance to the mall. You might try there. Hope that helps!” he told them with a wave as he moved off towards the next group of people.

 

There was another crashing and they watched as yet another section of the mall collapsed to the ground. They shared a tortured look and Miller said, “C’mon, let’s get to the Chelsea Street entrance!”

 

They all took off at a run.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The crowd at the Chelsea Street entrance was little more than a disorganized mob, angry and scared as they searched for their missing family and friends. A table had been set up under a hastily erected awning to try to take names of those persons who were unaccounted for. The awning offered little or no protection but no one noticed; everyone was too concerned with trying to get the officers attention. It was a rabble that was quickly deteriorating and the officers struggled fruitlessly to calm and reassure everyone. 

 

Clarke stared as yet more of the mall collapsed under the rain as the fire greedily ate through the structure. Her eyes were wide and panic-stricken and she had to force them away from the heartbreaking sight. There were people everywhere here though and a hope rose in her heart that Mercedes was among them, searching for them as they were for her. 

 

She watched as several large carriages with flashing lights roared to and from the building. Bellamy explained that they were called ambulances and they were taking injured people to hospitals. They were waiting for Miller to talk to the people at the table and Bellamy noticed that the rain was starting to move out. In its place was the pungent and acrid smell of the fire itself and it stung his eyes smartly. A glance at Clarke showed her wiping tears away from her eyes as well and whether the tears were from the odors of the fire or from fear he couldn’t tell. He pulled her tightly to his side and noticed that somewhere she had lost one of the flip-flops that Mercedes had gotten her. This rough pavement had to be uncomfortable on her bare foot and he led her over to a small section of grass and sat down, pulling her down next to him before wrapping his arm protectively around her again. The grass was thoroughly wet but it mattered little as they were already soaked to the skin.

 

“I left her, in – in the mall. I had to use the, um, bathroom and she was sitting in the food court with our packages when I went. I was inside the bathroom when the lights went out and I got pulled out with the crowd,” she explained quietly, her voice almost toneless. She was shivering even though it wasn’t cool, and her body was wracked with shudders. She didn’t realize that she was in shock, but Bellamy did and he knew he had to find some way to warm her up, get her out of this place soon. He picked her up and sat her on his lap, wrapping both arms around her and trying to rub her arms and back to get some warmth into her. She leaned her head back against his chest, closing her eyes for a moment. She felt dizzy and suddenly everything seemed very far away. The sun was starting to peek through the clearing clouds and Bellamy’s face blanched as he saw how pale she was.

 

A woman who was standing nearby saw that as well and rushed over to them. “Hi there. I’m Melanie and I couldn’t help but notice that your friend looks a little pale. I have a jacket here in the bag. I don’t know how dry it is, but maybe it will help her anyway. Would you like it?” she asked, pulling it out the bag. 

 

Clarke stared at it with blank eyes, but Bellamy took it gratefully and wrapped it around her, tucking it around her tightly. “It’s really pretty dry, thanks a lot Melanie,” he told her, smiling his thanks as well. “Are you looking for someone too?” he inquired.

 

“Yes, my sister. I’m trying hard not to panic, but it’s not easy, you know?” At Bellamy’s nod she continued. “We were in Penney’s when the lightning struck and were both headed out the exit when we got separated. I’m sure she’s here somewhere, probably helping someone – she’s a nurse!”

 

“I’m sure you are right. We are looking for my friend’s sister as well. He’s over by the information table right now. I’m Bellamy by the way, and this is Clarke,” he said, nodding down towards the bundle curled up in his lap.

 

About that time they heard someone yell out “Mel. MEL!!!” and another woman rushed into Melanie’s arms. They were identical twins and it brought a smile to Bellamy’s face, seeing their joy at finding one another. He imagined they would feel the same way when Mercedes was found.

 

Melanie and her sister were whispering, their heads tightly pressed together and it was apparent how happy they both were. “Bellamy, Clarke, this is Melody, my sister,” she told them, smiling broadly. Melody knelt down to take a look at Clarke, a frown displacing the smile she had been wearing.

 

“Hey there Clarke,” she said, turning Clarke’s face toward her. She laid her hand against Clarke’s face and then dug under the jacket to find her wrist so she could take her pulse.

 

“Her pulse is thready and slow, she’s in shock. You need to get her home and get her warm, quickly. Or at least get her warm and dry. Is your car around here? You could get her into it and turn the heat on. I think they are starting to give out hot coffee over there and that might help.” Melody said, looking around the crowd.

 

“I’ll go get her a cup of coffee, okay?” Melanie said, heading off toward where a van was set up and handing out hot drinks. 

 

“Our car is on the other side of the parking lot. We hurried over here when we heard that they were setting up an information site. I’m actually waiting on my friend Miller. It’s his sister who is missing,” Bellamy said, looking around for Miller, but he couldn’t see him anywhere.

 

Melanie came back with the coffee. It was hot and strong and Clarke made a face when Bellamy told her to drink it. But drink it she did, slowly and almost mechanically. But by the time the cup was done she had a little bit of color back into her face and she had all but stopped shivering.

 

Miller came towards them then, a look of dismay woven into his face. “Haven’t seen her yet. The good news is that she hasn’t been reported as being injured, so she’s probably still around here somewhere.”

 

Bellamy introduced him to Melanie and Melody and explained how they had helped Clarke. Miller took in Clarke’s still pale face and said, “Bellamy, you need to get her back home. Why don’t you take the car and send Jennings back with it later?”

 

“No, we should wait here. We can’t leave you without a way to get Mercedes home when you find her. And I don’t want to leave you here alone Miller.”

 

“Why don’t we take Clarke home? We’d be glad to, “Melanie offered. “Where do you live?”

 

“Oh, we live quite a ways out of the city I’m afraid. Thanks for the offer though, we appreciate it.” Bellamy was grateful, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to let Clarke out of his sight right now.

 

“We live in Weston, and that’s an hour out. C’mon, where can we take her? It’s really no problem,” Melody added.

 

Weston was a bit farther that Archer’s Grove, but on the same highway, so it wouldn’t be out of their way. Bellamy debated what to do and concern for Clarke finally convinced him to send her home with them. He gave them the address and instructions to Archer House along with the phone number for the house in case they got lost. He would phone Mrs. Burton, which probably needed to be done anyway because they had surely heard about what happened by now and she would be worried sick he was sure.

 

He carried Clarke over to Melanie’s’ car which she had pulled up as close as possible and tucked her into the back seat. Bellamy waved as they pulled off and wished his stomach wasn’t churning the way it was. Something just didn’t seem right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing Clarkes thoughts while waiting in the bathroom. Getting into her head is so much fun. Thanks for reading along with this and all the kudos and comments. Love you all!
> 
>  
> 
> Next Chapter: The game changes for our lovers. How much will faith play into it? How will they handle it? See you all on Friday!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the game changes. Mercedes is found safe, if a bit bedraggled. Neither Clarke or Bellamy reacts well to the separation. Bumpy ride ahead, loves!

Clarke watched Bellamy disappear as the crowd surrounded him, but their eyes clung to each others until neither could see the other any longer. Her heartbeat drummed softly to some unknown rhythm and Clarke imagined that Bellamy’s beat at the same pace. It was a rhythm of sorrow, of loneliness and she couldn’t understand why she felt so bereft, as if the world as she knew it was ending. Her tongue nervously ran over her lips and her small, white teeth worried the lower lip until blood seeped from it, only to be flicked unconsciously away by her tongue. The car pulled away from the chaos that was happening at the mall and she only reluctantly turned her head away when she could no longer see him. 

 

A tear slipped silently down her still pale cheek and for a moment she remembered the warmth of his arms around her, telling her that it would all be okay. Goose bumps rose sharply over her body and for a moment she couldn’t tell if she was just remembering those words or if she had really heard them. Which was impossible of course. But the words had sounded so real, so close, almost as if she felt them, rather than heard them.

 

Melanie, who was driving the car watched Clarke in the rear view mirror and frowned slightly as she watched her shiver. She reached down and cranked the heater up another notch and Melody caught the look and turned slightly in her seat, as much as the seat belt would allow any way, to speak to they passenger.

 

“Clarke, are you getting any warmer?”

 

Melody’s voice was concerned and protective of their passenger and she noticed that Clarke’s face had once again paled considerably and had high, bright spots of color on it, making her cheeks look almost like a Raggedy Ann doll. Her eyes were closed, her dark lashes resting wetly against the bright smudges on her cheeks. She was still shivering; rhythmic trembles that visibly coursed through her body. Melody unfastened her seat belt and turned around fully in the seat and felt for Clarke’s pulse again. It was stronger and steadier than when she had checked it before, but the girl was so pale that it worried her a great deal. 

 

Clarke’s eyes opened slightly and she tried to focus on Melody. “I am feeling a bit warmer, thank you,” she told them, her eyes fluttering shut again for a moment before she continued. “I feel very tired though.” She smiled for a moment and let out a deep breath. She was tired she realized, exhausted in fact. Too many things had happened in such a short amount of time. She longed to just go to bed and pull the covers over her head and sleep for days.

 

“Do you think you need to see a doctor? I think maybe you do,” Melody finished, watching their passenger closely.

 

“No, I think I will be fine. I am sorry to be such a burden for you. It just all happened very quickly and I am very concerned for Mercedes safely as well. She is a very dear companion.” Clarke tried to sit up a bit straighter and smile as she spoke, aware that her benefactors were concerned about her, possibly more so than would be good for them all. She knew that she could not possibly explain her circumstances of being here to them; she could not fully explain it to herself even.

 

As she listened to Clarke’s voice and manner of speaking, Melanie thought that she must still be a bit confused. She spoke very oddly, not only the accent but the way in which she phrased her sentences and even the words themselves. It was almost – old fashioned sounding. Yes, that was it, it sounded old fashioned. She didn’t use contractions and her words were just very formal sounding. She wondered if Melody had noticed. 

 

Melody nodded at Clarke’s words and said, “Alright. Why don’t you just try and rest a bit until we get you home? It should only be another half an hour or so.”

 

Clarke nodded and leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, glad for the chance to be left alone, alone with her thoughts and worries. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bellamy watched the car pull away with Clarke in it and his stomach twisted dangerously. Something was wrong and he knew it. He didn’t know what, but something wasn’t right. Had he made a mistake, letting two virtual strangers take her with them? They seemed normal and helpful but sometimes that wasn’t always enough. People used to say the same thing about Ted Bundy he thought with panic clutching his heart.

 

Miller came to stand beside his best friend and noticed the pain and fear that Bellamy was wearing on his handsome face. His brow was furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down as he concentrated on something. He laid a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze of support. It started Bellamy out of his reverie and turned to look at his friend.

 

“Any word yet?” he asked, hopeful that Miller had some good news.

 

“No, although there is a large gathering of people on the other side of the mall, people who were inside that is. They are trying to get everyone’s name on lists and get that over here for us to see. I’m sure she is over there Bellamy, I just feel it,” he said, and the best thing was that Bellamy could tell that Miller actually meant it. And that was a wonderful thing because Miller and Mercedes had always had a mental connection, one that was usually only common among twins, although they weren’t twins. But Bellamy trusted Miller’s instincts and he felt better, about Mercedes at least.

 

Miller noticed that Bellamy’s eyes lightened a bit at that news, but they were still a bit clouded and he knew it had to have something to do with Clarke. He debated for a moment whether to try to get his friend to talk about it, or whether to just leave it alone. The sun was shining brightly down now and while he was glad that the pouring rain had stopped, it was now getting steamy and hot out here in the bright light with virtually no shade to be found. He squinted in the unceasingly bright light as he scanned the crowds again, still looking for his sister and he spotted the truck that had earlier been giving out hot coffee. It now seemed to be giving out bottled water and he told Bellamy he’d be right back and headed over to grab a couple of bottles for them.

 

The bottles of water were icy cold and Miller gratefully pressed one to his face, feeling the cold drops of condensation from the outside of the bottle make contact with his heated flesh. It felt wonderful he thought, threading his way back to Bellamy through the crowd that seemed to be getting larger by the moment. The pandemonium that was reigning out of control an hour ago was now a bit more controlled and people sat on curbs and the few spaces of sodden grass to wait for news of family and friends. Miller even noticed a few smiles in the crowd and he hoped that they would all have reason to smile very quickly. 

 

He found Bellamy sitting on a curb, his arms resting on his knees. He was staring off into space and the worried frown still streaked his face. Miller could see a vein in his temple beating strongly in the sun as Bellamy looked up at Miller’s approach. He handed a bottle of water to Bellamy silently and watched as Bellamy cracked it open and took a long drink, draining half the bottle before stopping. Miller sat down next to him and did the same, not realizing how thirsty and hot he had actually been. He was still debating whether to try to get Bellamy to speak when Bellamy spoke on his own.

 

“I don’t know that I should have let her go with them. I feel like something isn’t right Miller…” he trailed off, finishing the last of his water after he spoke. 

 

Miller watched Bellamy put the cap back on the bottle and then start peeling the plastic label off the bottle; just to have something to do with himself Miller was sure. Miller finished his own water and sat the bottle on the pavement in front of him as he thought about what to say to Bellamy. He decided to start with the obvious and asked why.

 

“I don’t exactly know. I’ve been sitting here trying to figure that out. I don’t think they would hurt her, but still, something just doesn’t feel right. I don’t…I just don’t know,” he finished with a shrug.

 

One thing Miller did believe in was the fact that sometimes two people can have a connection, which was why he knew that Mercedes was okay. So he didn’t doubt for a moment that there was something between Bellamy and Clarke. No, he knew there was. It had happened quickly, almost immediately he guessed and he knew that Bellamy had never had that connection with anyone before; would probably have denied that it was even possible. Until Clarke, that is Miller thought with a smile.

 

Miller licked his lips before pursing them and nodding his head. “Bellamy, I think you would probably know. Trust your connection with her and see if you can ‘feel’ her. It will tell you if she is safe, I promise you.” Miller watched Bellamy as he turned his thoughts inward for a moment.

 

Bellamy didn’t have a clue how to ‘feel’ her, and truthfully he felt foolish trying. It seemed juvenile, hokey even. Next he’d be looking for a psychic with a crystal ball. He scoffed at himself inwardly, and yet, as he focused on Clarke he could almost, almost sense her. And she was okay, he was suddenly sure of it! The thought brought a smile to his face.

 

Suddenly there was a stir in the crowd and Miller and Bellamy both looked up to see a police car arriving and several people getting out of it. One of the officers had several lists in his hand and told the crowd that he would be reading the names off of the lists. He would start with the names of the most critically injured people first, the ones that were being transferred to local hospitals. If you had someone on that list the officer requested that you speak with one of the other people from the car who would tell you which facility your person had been sent to.

 

They waited patiently, through the first list of names. They were random, not alphabetical, so you had to wait through them all for news. There were yells and cries buzzing throughout the crowd as someone heard a name they recognized. Other people, like Miller and Bellamy stood by quietly, waiting to hear Mercedes’ name. When the officer finished the list without giving her name they felt gratitude that she wasn’t on that list and then both felt ashamed of themselves as they saw they other people who were frantic with worry about their loved ones who were in critical condition.

 

The second list was of people who were injured and were waiting for medical care on site. This list was a bit longer and again not alphabetized and they waited patiently through it, both of them fully expecting to hear Mercedes name called. 

 

Except that it wasn’t. Neither of them knew what to expect now. Did it mean that she was fine, and would turn up at any minute or did it mean something worse?

 

The officer started to read the final list, of those people who were fine and would be making their way over to this side of the parking lot. It was a very large mall, covering several blocks and Bellamy and Miller both knew it could take a while for that to happen, so they listened to the last list being read. People all around them were letting out excited squeals as their people’s names were read off the list, some even whooping with relief and joy. The officer had read at least a hundred names and both Miller and Bellamy knew there couldn’t be too many more left. They looked at one another and Bellamy saw Miller swallow nervously when they heard someone behind them say, “It’s really hard waiting, isn’t it?”

 

They both nodded in agreement when they realized they knew that voice. Both turned around and there was Mercedes, eyes sparkling at her joke.

 

She looked as if she had been battered about by a giant cat, covered with dirt, soot and scratches, her clothing torn and hanging in tattered shreds. And she had never looked more beautiful!

 

She fell into Miller’s arms and they hugged each other tightly before Bellamy got in on it, joining them both with laughter and tears. The three of them were oblivious to everyone around them until they heard the officer say that if you didn’t hear the name you were waiting for to please come to see them. None of the three of them needed to be told that it was because that person was probably dead. It sobered all three of them.

 

“Where is Clarke?” Mercedes asked, looking around her. “Is she waiting somewhere else?” Then her face paled dramatically and she asked, “Oh God, is she okay?”

 

As scared as she was to hear the answer, she had to ask since Clarke wasn’t with them. Maybe they were waiting to hear about her as well. Mercedes had heard that the people in that area had gotten out safely and she hadn’t worried since then. 

 

Bellamy saw her concern and smiled. “She’s fine Mercedes. She was very scared and chilled, actually in shock. We sent her home with some women who were heading that way. She’s alright, really,” he finished and saw relief flood her face. A huge smile broke through, making her teeth look startlingly white in her smudged face and it made Bellamy and Miller laugh.

 

Mercedes didn’t understand why they were laughing, but didn’t care because at least she knew that Clarke was okay. Miller looked down at her and saw that she wasn’t carrying anything with her and asked if had her purse or anything?

 

“No, I apparently lost it all in the mess and confusion. Actually, all that was the last thing I thought about when the lightning struck. They only thing I thought of was getting out of there. Everything crashed down between where Clarke was and where I was waiting. Then it was all on fire and I headed in the opposite direction which is how I ended up on the Macy’s side of the mall, a block away. We just kept running for an entrance that wasn’t blocked. It was horrible. We stopped and picked people up when we could, carrying them out with us if they couldn’t walk. But some of them, well, some of them…uh, you know,” she finished quietly.

 

Bellamy could only imagine what she meant and what things she must have seen in there. He offered up a prayer of thanks that both she and Clarke were fine and then another one, for those who weren’t.

 

Miller put his arm around her and squeezed her tightly. He leaned over and kissed her forehead and said, “Well, let’s head for the car, alright? Get you home Smokey the Bear, huh?”

 

His attempt at some humor didn’t diminish the tragedy of what was still happening around them. He shook his head ruefully and said, “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I said that. It was very inappropriate.” 

 

Bellamy patted his friends shoulder in sympathy and they headed to the car, to make the journey home.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Clarke dozed fitfully in the back seat of the car, but at least she rested, Melanie thought. She and her sister chatted quietly in the front seat, thankful that they had the opportunity to do that. They had been very lucky; they each knew that because it was all surely a terrible tragedy.

 

“I think I should maybe have stayed and helped,” Melody said, remembering the chaos around them at the mall.

 

“Maybe, but they seemed to have plenty of emergency responder's on site Mel. Don’t fret, okay?” Melanie said, glancing over her shoulder at their passenger. “How is she doing, can you tell?”

 

“I don’t know, she seems to be resting and that’s probably the best thing for her. Did, um, did you notice the way she talks? Kind of strange, the way she says things, don’t you think?”

 

Melanie smiled as she slowed down to make the turn off to Archer’s Grove. “Yes I did. I thought her speech sounded sort of old fashioned. Like great aunt Letty used to speak. Very formal, with no contractions.”

 

“Exactly. I’ll bet she went to some fancy finishing school or something,” Melody said with a soft laugh.

 

Clarke was beginning to stir when she heard this last bit of conversation. They had no idea she thought wryly. She lifted her head and opened her eyes to see that it was very dark and stormy looking again. She looked out the window and noticed the lightning in the not-so-far distance and the strange, greenish hue to the sky as well. Just like before…

 

She frowned, trepidation racing through her. She tried taking deep breaths to calm her and Melody noticed she was awake and agitated.

 

“It’s only another storm heading in Clarke. We should have you home soon enough, and you won’t have to worry about it. You’ve probably had enough storms for one day, haven’t you?” Melody teased.

 

“Indeed. This one looks very potent however. I hope we make it quickly. You should both perhaps consider resting within the manor until the storm passes,” Clarke told them. She failed to see the look that passed between the sisters at her words. It was as if to say, ‘See?’

 

They made it past the village itself before the rain came, beating down on them in torrents. Lightning ripped through the sky, flashing brightly along its path. They saw several trees struck and Clarke started shivering again. Even through the closed car windows the sharp smell of smoke and ozone seemed to penetrate.

 

Even though they were creeping along the road, Melanie missed the turn to Archer House and had to back up to make the turn. They went along the drive and it was now almost black outside from the clouds and rain, except for the brightly punctuated spitting of the lightning. Finally the house was visible and Melanie pulled as close to the entrance as she could and then turned to Clarke with a smile.

 

“It’s okay if you wait a few minutes to go in. In fact I recommend it. We’re insulated from the lightning here in the car and it will surely stop pretty quickly. It can’t keep up this intensity for too long!”

 

“Yes,” Melody added, “I agree. We’ve just got you warm and dry, no need to get soaked again,” she told Clarke.

 

Clarke was pulling the borrowed coat off and thanking them for all their help. “It was extremely kind of you to help me in this manner and your consideration is greatly appreciated. I think I shall make haste though and just get in. I believe I would like a bubble bath,” she told them. And she was also wondering if there had been any word about Mercedes as well.

 

“Oh Clarke, are you sure you won’t wait? Please, it’s wicked out there,” Melody said, eyeing the downpour with distaste.

 

“Oh no, I shall be just fine, I assure you. It is not far to the doorway. Thank you again, so much,” she said, opening the door and dashing out into the storm.

 

A huge and loud burst of lightning hit just then. The women couldn’t see what it hit, but the weather seemed to clear a good deal after it and when they looked, they couldn’t see Clarke anywhere.

 

She must have made it in they decided and Melanie put the car into gear and they headed down the driveway, chatting more about their unusual passenger.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

At that moment Bellamy felt a huge gut-wrenching spasm take him. The last thing he remembered before losing unconsciousness was calling out Clarke’s name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got you all wondering now don't I? What happened and is it the end of Bellarke? Time will tell...
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and commenting and kudos. You all are great! Let me know what YOU think is going on, hmm?
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: Whoa! The ride home from the mall for Bellamy, Miller and Mercedes ends with Bell's frantic behavior. 
> 
>  
> 
> Just remember, This is a Bellarke story and will of course have a happy ending!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy is on edge for the entire trip home, especially when he sees the storm ahead. He knows in his gut that something is wrong, but would Miller and Mercedes even believe him if he explained?

The three people who walked to Miller’s car were all silent. It seemed that reaction from the horrific events at the mall were kicking in, especially for Mercedes whose steps seemed to drag along with the exhausted expression on her face. By the time they reached the car she was crying, huge salty droplets slipping quickly down her small, pale face. Her earlier attempt at humor was long gone. Bellamy wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she leaned heavily against him – not that there was anything heavy about her diminutive person, but somehow the weight of this afternoon was taking an enormous toll on her.

 

“You’re sure Clarke was fine? These people who took her home, who are they? Do we know them?” she asked, her words coming out in a nervous rush. She tried futilely to wipe away the tears from her cheeks; much like a child would; swiping at them with the back of her hand. All that really accomplished was to smear the grime and soot that covered her face. Her usual cool and stylish face was only a caricature of itself and Bellamy was glad that she couldn’t see herself right now; it would only upset her more.

 

“They are twin sisters from Weston; it was on their way. One of them is a nurse and since Clarke was pretty upset, I thought that might be a good thing. She was scared; hell, anyone would be to see all this.” He gave Mercedes’ shoulder another quick squeeze as they stopped in front of the car.

 

Miller hit the unlock button and they heard the soft click that told them the doors had unlocked and Bellamy opened the rear door for Mercedes to slide in. She sank into the cushiony comfort of the supple leather seats and pulled her feet in while Bellamy waited to close the door for her. She leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes for a moment, appreciating the relative quiet inside the automobile.

 

Miller turned back to her and took in her tired and bedraggled appearance before smiling at her in his best protective big brother way. “Do you need anything before we head out of town? A soda or something to eat?”

 

“No. I’m still too anxious about all this; dog-tired. Nope bro, I just want to get home, crawl into a bath tub for several hours and go to bed,” she answered quietly.

 

Miller nodded briefly before facing front and snapping his seat belt on. He started the car and made the trip out of the parking lot. It was slow going even though there wasn’t much activity on this side of the mall. People from all over town had come out to see the disaster and even though the police were doing their best to prevent the lookiloos, they were still getting in and causing havoc with the people who had been there and seen more than they ever wanted to see. Miller had to bite back curses numerous times as he waited or tried to pull around someone who was only there to gawk.

 

After 25 minutes of bumper-to-bumper congestion they finally cleared the exit and Miller headed out to the interstate to head home. They had all been silent as they waited to leave the mall; each wrapped up in their own thoughts. Clarke topped Bellamy’s list of concerns; while he knew it was best to send her home, he was still nervous about it. He didn’t know why and he called himself an idiot for worrying so much. He cast a sideways glance over at Miller and saw him looking in the rear view mirror, a frown pursing his lips.

 

Bellamy turned his head around and saw Mercedes, staring sightlessly out the window at scenery that might not even have been there. And the tears were still coursing down her face freely; they had in fact almost washed most of the grime away, but that didn’t make it any better Bellamy decided. He didn’t really know what to do for her; she didn’t seem to want to talk so he took his signal from that and let her rest quietly on her own. When he looked back a few minutes later, her eyes were closed and she seemed to be resting; whether she was asleep or not he couldn’t tell.

 

As always, he brain refused to remain idle and so clicked through the events of the day. “You know, since Mercedes lost her purse and everything, when we get back to Archer House you need to call the bank and her credit cards and things,” he said softly to Miller.

 

“Geez, Bellamy,” Miller exclaimed, at a decibel barely lower than a yell. He cast a quick look over his shoulder to see if he had disturbed his sister and when she still seemed to be sleeping, he continued. “Doesn’t that business brain of yours ever shut off? Look at her – that’s about the last thing on my mind!”

 

“I understand that Miller, which is why I brought it up,” he stated calmly. “I know you, and I know that it won’t be on your mind, but it’s going to have to be taken care of – she had credit cards in her purse and probably a check book and all sorts of identification. Enough so that someone could have a field day and wipe her accounts out pretty quickly if they found it. Look,” he said, his voice as low and persuasive as he could make it, “why don’t you let me make the calls. Hell, it will give me something to do, okay?”

 

He watched as Miller swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down quickly. Miller’s lips were pursed as he thought over Bellamy’s offer and the adult in him knew that Bellamy was right, that it had to be done. But the big brother was only thinking about his sister and the fact that she was scared and miserable and all he wanted was to comfort her.

 

Bellamy watched a gamut of emotions cross Miller’s face before he finally nodded and said, “Okay, yeah, you’re right. Thanks Bellamy.” He cast a quick look over at his friend sitting beside him and mentally chastised himself for getting angry. At least Bellamy was thinking of practical things and that was important too he knew.

 

They had been on the interstate for about 15 minutes when they saw the storm brewing up ahead. Or maybe re-brewing would be a better word. It was wicked they could see – heavy black clouds with lightning shooting spectacularly from them. There was also a strange greenish glow to the storm and Bellamy frowned as he tried to remember something important, but it seemed to just stay out of reach of his memory. 

 

“Wow, that is quite a storm,” Miller said as he turned on the windshield wipers when fat droplets started hitting the window. An explosive streak that seemed to cover half the sky ahead of them made them both peer a little more closely out at the storm. “I’ve never seen lightning spread so broadly across the sky before. Damn, that’s a hell of a storm!”

 

“Yeah,” Bellamy agreed, “it’s a huge storm. And it looks like we are driving directly into. That color is so weird.”

 

“Kind of reminds me of something you’d see on Star Trek, huh? You know, Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock exploring some strange planet with the weird color sky! How many of those episodes did we watch on TV?” Miller laughed. The sound was soft since he was still conscious of Mercedes resting in the back seat, but at least it was a laugh Bellamy thought.

 

“Yes, and then some strange space alien would pop out from behind a boulder and kill one of the guys in a red shirt! Man, it was never a good thing to wear a red shirt on Star Trek!” Bellamy added. “Well, unless you were Scotty.” He continued to stare out the window at the storm that seemed to only get worse. They were about 10 minutes from Archer’s Grove now and Bellamy was more anxious than ever now to get back there.

 

“They couldn’t have killed off Scotty of course because who would have taken care of his ‘bairns’ if he died,” Miller said, thinking about the euphemism that Chief Engineer Scott always used for his engines.

 

“Um,” Bellamy mumbled, still staring at the storm. And then it hit him - that weird greenish color was the same color that was in the storm when Clarke appeared. He didn’t even realize that he had admitted to himself that she had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Damn! 

 

“Hey, let’s get back to Archer House as quickly as possible, okay?” he told Miller, albeit unnecessarily. Had he thought about it, he would have realized that Miller was as anxious to get home as he was.

 

They watched another huge bolt streak rapidly across the sky, extending spiky fingers out as if wanting to touch everything within their reach. And suddenly, Bellamy’s heart stopped. Or it felt as if it did, anyway and all he thought of for that one moment was Clarke. As he shouted her name out in horrible fear, he felt his breath whoosh out and for the first time in his life, Bellamy Blake fainted.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Mercedes was startled awake and jumped a mile in her seat when Bellamy cried out. Miller yelled, “What the hell?” and frantically pulled the car over to the side of the roadway. 

 

Mercedes has already unbuckled her seat belt and was asking, “What the hell did you do Miller?” as she reached forward to Bellamy to try to see if he was okay.

 

“I didn’t do anything. We – we were talking about Star Trek and watching the storm and all of a sudden he called out Clarke’s name and then passed out. I don’t know what the hell happened!”

 

Mercedes looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “Star Trek did this? You have a phaser hidden away up there or something?” she asked skeptically. “Bellamy, Bellamy, hey wake up,” she said to him as she watched his eyes begin to flutter.

 

"No, geez, I don’t know. He was fine a minute ago, just fine!” Cars were passing them by and each time the car was rocked from the air and dirty water from the pavement splashed the car as well. “Do you think I need to get him to a hospital?”

 

“No, NO hospital,” Bellamy mumbled. “I’m okay, let’s just get home. Something’s wrong, wrong with Clarke!” His eyes were open and he was trying to shake himself awake, but his heart was racing. He knew that something was wrong, very wrong.

 

“I don’t know Bellamy. I think we need to find a hospital,” Mercedes told him and then immediately caught the positively brutal look that Bellamy threw at her over his shoulder.

 

“No damn hospital! Get me home,” he told them. His voice was very shaky and it was because he was angry Mercedes realized.

 

Miller was waiting on traffic so that he could get back onto the roadway, but he agreed with his sister, Bellamy probably needed to go to the hospital. But he didn’t trust his friend not to go ballistic if he tried to head there, so he just waited patiently for an opening in the traffic. It finally came and he cautiously merged back into the flow of the other cars and when he managed to look over at Bellamy again, he noticed the grim set to his mouth and decided to just get home.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bellamy constantly shifted in his seat the rest of the way to Archer House. By the time they reached the turnoff for Archer’s Grove his foot was tapping incessantly with his barely controlled impatience. The last 5 minutes to the house were excruciating for him; they could not possibly be there quickly enough to suit him. 

 

Mercedes and Miller were quiet during that time as well, each for their own reasons. Miller was concerned about his friend’s strange and erratic behavior and couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was causing it. He was also still worried about Mercedes, who sat silently in the backseat, staring at the back of Bellamy’s head with a frown marring her face. He also was paying close attention to the road because the rain had started again and was pouring down in buckets.

 

Mercedes was almost afraid to say anything. Bellamy was in the mood to bite someone’s head off and she decided quickly that it wouldn’t be her. But he was certainly freaking out about something and for the life of her she didn’t know what. 

 

Clarke had only been in their lives for a day now and yet Bellamy had already become totally attached to her. In love, Mercedes thought actually: she actually believed they were soulmates, if such a thing existed. Although how that could be was beyond her understanding because if there was someone who had avoided not only love but any type of emotional attachment to women it was Bellamy. He was the master of keeping his distance from women who wanted all of him. Mercedes knew all about that – she had been on the receiving end of his remote attitude for years. Yet it was only the romance he shunned from her. As a friend, the kid sister of his best friend he was always there for her and the difference between the two types of emotion had become very clear to her. And it was okay she had realized not long ago. He made an excellent big brother substitute and it was enough for her.

 

But Clarke seemed to have dug right into his heart; she didn’t know how or why, but she had. Bellamy had every classic symptom of love and it would be amusing if it wasn’t so damn scary. As Clarke herself was scary. Not in a frightening way, but the circumstances of her appearance certainly warranted some consideration. If it were possible for someone to appear out of thin air, it seemed she had. Was it really possible for her to be here from another time? It seemed a ridiculous idea, and yet how else could her reactions and behavior be explained?

 

The car hadn’t even come completely to a stop before Bellamy had his door open and one foot out. The rain had let up enough to only be torrential and it didn’t stop him at all as he tore out of the car and into the entry way of the house. Miller and Mercedes followed as quickly as possible and Bellamy was yelling for Mrs. Burton when they entered the foyer.

 

“Mrs. Burton,” he said as she came in a rush from the kitchen, brushing back a stray wisp of hair from her face. “Is Clarke lying down or resting? Did she tell you what happened at the mall?”

 

“I heard what happened – Mr. Miller called you know. And Miss Clarke isn’t home yet!” she told him, looking puzzled.

 

A chill swept over Mercedes and she caught Miller’s eye. He looked perplexed at the news, but Bellamy looked crazed. “Not home? What the hell do you mean not home? She should have gotten here a half hour ago!” As he spoke he was already racing for the stairs, flying up them two at a time. 

 

“She’s not here,” she said to Miller and Mercedes. “I’m sure she would have come and told me she was here had she come home!” She cast worried eyes at them both and they ran for the stairs themselves, following as quickly as possible after Bellamy.

 

They found him standing in her room – her empty room. Mrs. Burton had made the bed this morning and picked up the few items that had been left out, but it was all undisturbed. Bellamy rushed into the bathroom only to be greeted by the empty hollow of the room. He then raced out the door and down the hall, calling her name like a madman.

 

There was no answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Star Trek helps to lighten the mood a bit, until it doesn't. 
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> Thanks so much for reading and staying with me, even though the last chapter was a lot! But it gets better, I promise. You can't keep soulmates apart, no matter when they are from. Love the kudo's and comments!
> 
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> Next chapter: Clarke panics a bit about how to explain her presence and her clothes to her cousin and aunt. Clarke reflects on her time in 2017, even wondering if she had really been there, but it makes her look at her life differently. Will it change her she wonders.


	18. Chpater 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bree finds Clarke in the unusual clothes as Clarke finds herself back in her own time. She can't help but compare how different 200 years made things so different.

Pain seared through Clarke, taking her breath away. She hit the ground hard, so maybe her breath had just been knocked out of her, but either way she struggled to drag air into lungs that felt on fire. She lay still for a moment, her cheek pressed into the soggy ground, finally managing to drag in huge breaths of air that she hoped would make her head stop spinning. She opened her eyes and blinked them several times, trying futilely to clear them from the pounding rain before she tried wiping her hand across her face in an effort to see.

 

As soon as her eyes focused she understood what had happened; the drive was once again dirt rather than stone and there was no trace of the car that had brought her here. She sat up and saw the grove of maples that she had missed so much in the other time. They stood beautifully guarding the way into the gardens, their lush, vibrant leaves so thick and dense you could not tell where one tree stopped and the next began.

 

She cried to see them. Or was she crying because she was seeing them? She didn’t know for sure and that only made her cry harder. For a moment she considered that she was only dreaming again; she wanted that to be true she realized. Because even though she was home, it meant that Bellamy was not here. If she were not crazy, he was 200 years into the future. 

 

_200 years! Surely it must not be true?_

 

Was it true, that she had been there? Or had she imagined it all? She laid her head down onto her knees to try to stop it spinning so frantically. No, she had been there, she knew it. She could not have imagined such things as indoor privies that carried the waste away or carriages that traveled so fast that going all the way to Boston took only minutes rather than most of a day. What a future the world will have she decided and then realized that it wasn’t all good when she remembered the terrible sounds that seemed to be everywhere and people all crushed together in house’s that sat almost on top of one another. No, it was not all good…

 

But the people she had met, those were good she decided. Miller and Mercedes; Bellamy. Her heart cried out for Bellamy, wanting to reach him a mere two hundred years away. He was on his way home to Archer House as she stood here; he could literally be standing next to her now, only separated by time.

 

She rose shakily to her feet and then looked down at her bedraggled appearance. At clothes that would not be acceptable here in this time. Oh my, what would her family say? To see her in breeches, without shoes and in a tee shirt and bra? They had never seen such things and would not know what to make of her attire and she would have no way to explain it either. They certainly would not believe where she had been and they would be scandalized by her dress.

 

She realized that she was going to have to explain much quicker that she would like when she heard the door open behind her and her cousin Bree exclaimed “Clarke! What on earth are you doing here? And why are you dressed in such a manner?”

 

As she spoke Bree made her way to Clarke and stood looking at her, gazing from head to foot with curious green eyes. Oh how Clarke had always envied Bree those eyes, but right now all she thought of was getting out of this rain. Without showing any inclination to move Bree stood there while the rain soaked her through as well, her mouth hanging open as she took in Clarke’s appearance.

 

Bree was two years younger than Clarke and spoiled and pampered by her mother who was married to Clarke’s mother’s brother. “Bree,” Clarke said, “we need to get into the house, you are being soaked to the skin and we would not want you to catch a chill, would we? Bree!” Clarke’s words finally sunk in and since Bree was always being told how ‘delicate’ she was, she knew she must do what Clarke was asking.

 

“Alright Clarke, we shall go inside. Why are you here and why are you dressed thusly?”

 

Clarke had grabbed Bree’s hand and they were running to the house because the sky was opening up further, if that were possible Clarke thought skeptically and it was now almost impossible to see their hands in front of their faces. Bree had left the door open, which was typical of her Clarke decided and they ran into the foyer, so familiar and yet not.

 

“Perkins,” yelled Bree, calling for their housekeeper. “Perkins! Where are you? We need help,” and that final plea brought Grace Perkins on the run. Grace had been with the household since Clarke’s mother was a child and did not move as quickly as she once did, a fact that seemed to irritate Bree on many occasions, this being one. “Goodness Perkins, you are slow as molasses! Get us some drying cloths, quickly. I do not need to remind you that I catch chills easily I am sure!”

 

Perkins was already calling for a maid, who came almost immediately to see what the commotion was about. Bridget stared open-mouthed at Clarke and Bree stamped her foot impatiently yelling, “Move Bridget!” completely forgetting that not two minutes earlier she had done the same thing.

 

Perkins was also peering at Clarke in question, but did not say a word. Clarke had always been one of her favorites, much like her mother had been. Yes, Miss Clarke was as sweet as the day was long and something had obviously happened to her. But there was time enough to find that out later she decided, first thing was to get the young ladies dry and warm. 

 

“Come into the kitchen with me,” she told them, gesturing with her hand. “It is warm and snug there and you can stand by the fire to ward the chill off.”

 

Clarke did not have to be asked twice and she immediately followed Perkins. Bree had to be a bit contrary, as was usual and looked for a moment as if she might refuse but then quickly realized that no one was going to stay with her in the foyer. Besides she decided, it was drafty here and the kitchen would be warmer. Bridget was behind her carrying a huge armload of cloths for them to dry off with and with the thought of being dried off in mind Bree increased her pace to get to the kitchen, which was off the family dining room.

 

Clarke followed Perkins through the covered walkway and sighed as she felt the enveloping warmth reach out to her chilled body. Perkins immediately set out to get the girls both a cup of strong tea to help warm their insides as the fire would warm their outsides. Bridget held out a toweling cloth to Clarke which she accepted gratefully with thanks and wrapped it around her, not sure if her thanks were for the warmth or covering up her clothes.

 

Clarke stood in front of the hearth and enjoyed the warmth emanating from it. Something was cooking in a pot hanging from one of the iron hooks; it was bubbling merrily and smelled wonderful Clarke decided. The fireplace was almost as long as the room was, with ledges and pockets built into it to set things in to warm or to bake. It was quite extensive really for the times, but Clarke was thinking of the modern built in ovens and cooking apparatus that Mrs. Burton had in place of it. And the machine that kept things cold and provided ice anytime of the year. How welcome that would be here where the temperature of a house was controlled by fire to heat in the winter and open windows and doors in the summer. The people of the future had no real clue how those things had the power to change life so much. They were amazing and yet no one really seemed to pay any attention to them at all. Were people so used to these miracles that they were meaningless? 

 

She was so lost in thought that it took her a moment to realize that Perkins was calling her name. “Miss Clarke,” she was saying, “come have a seat and drink your tea, it will help to warm you.” She smiled at Clarke kindly and Clarke gratefully returned the smile and took a seat to enjoy the rich tea. She sipped appreciatively and only listened to Bree with one ear as she complained that there wasn’t enough sugar in it and too much milk. Clarke thought it was lovely and wondered if Bree really did not care for it or if she were just complaining because she could. She always complained a lot Clarke realized and she wondered how she had never really noticed before how petulant and childish it seemed.

 

No one, except for Bree had mentioned Clarke’s clothing and while she was grateful for that fact, she also understood that sooner or later someone was going to comment. For the time being she pulled the towel tighter around her and started to consider the other aspects of her being here. Roberts Folly was 6 miles away and she had actually been painting a mile or so on the other side of it. Archer House was very far away, really too far for her to have walked, especially in such a storm as they had today. And when she considered that, she wondered exactly what day it was? How much time had passed here? Did her family realize she had been gone, were they looking for her she wondered?

 

It had been Tuesday when she had left home to paint. Was it still Tuesday and how could she find out without seeming to be out of her mind?

 

Just then her Aunt Beatrice entered the room, the scent of honeysuckle following her as always. She took in their bedraggled state and started tut-tutting as she frowned. “My goodness girls, you are perfectly like drowned rats. Where have you been? And Clarke, I did not know you were coming to visit. Why did you father not send us word to expect you? Where are your bags my dear?” As she spoke she bent down and kissed her niece on the cheek to welcome her and Clarke was enveloped in the scent that always made her think of her aunt.

 

Clarke swallowed convulsively, trying desperately to think of a way to explain her presence and saw no possibility except to be honest, as much as she could. “I – I was out painting and got lost Aunt Beatrice. I am not exactly sure how I came to be here. The storm was terrible and I fear I was struck by lightning. A traveler came upon me and gave me a ride and I found myself here. I am sure that my family is worried since they must realize I was lost.”

 

It was all true, but she only told a tiny part of the story. She could not explain more because they would surely believe she was out of her head. Maybe I am she considered.

 

“Oh my goodness! Well, we will send word to them immediately, although it may take the rider a while to get through because I am sure the roads are terrible after the wretched way it has been raining. How lucky for you that someone came upon you my dear. Are you well? Perhaps we should get you up to bed with some soup to ward off a chill. After all, you must have been out in the storm for hours! Perkins, have her room made up and get a tray ready for her.”

 

"Yes ma’am, I’ll send Rosie up to get it ready immediately. And might I suggest a hot bath as well Miss Clarke?”

 

”That would be lovely Perkins; I do feel a bit chilled.” Then she remembered the bathing room in the future and also remembered how the maids would have to lug the water up the stairs and then down again. “I would be happy to take a bath down here Perkins,” she said, thinking that would be so much easier.

 

“I should say not!” Aunt Beatrice interjected. “Bathing in the servant’s area, it is not acceptable! My dear, you shall have all the privacy and comfort of your room, as usual.”

 

“Certainly Aunt Beatrice, as you suggest,” Clarke answered.

 

“Mama,” Bree said, her voice petulant. “I need a bath as well you know, I am positively chilled to the bone. I had to go outside to rescue Clarke and got soaked as well. And you know how delicate I am!”

 

“Of course precious, you are very delicate! Perkins, we’ll need a bath for Miss Bree as well!”

 

Clarke ducked her head to hide an impudent smile that just turned up the corners of her mouth. She knew it would be hard for Bree to see attention lavished on someone else. “Yes, I am sure you are so chilled Bree. Please get a bath ready for Miss Bree first Perkins, and then you can heat water for me. I will be fine here by the fire and I would love another cup of your delicious tea while I wait.” Clarke smiled at Perkins who bobbed her head in appreciation of her understanding. If things didn’t go well for Miss Bree, there would be no peace within this household.

 

Bree nodded her head in acknowledgment of her victory and headed out of the room to make ready for her bath. Clarke sighed in relief. Bree seemed more juvenile than she ever had before and also much more annoying. She didn’t understand the change in her perception really, but she acknowledged that it certainly had shifted. Could her short time in 2017 have made such a big difference in her outlook? Was that possible? She was looking at everyone and everything differently. Perhaps that was not a bad thing really. As a young woman of a certain social class and wealth she had for the most part blithely expected things to go her way, although hopefully not to the degree that Bree did. No, they had not been particularly spoiled and coddled; grandmother had seen to that. Only during stolen moments with their father, those were the only times they were indulged and fussed over. But she somehow felt stronger now, more aware of the plight of others. 

 

_Perhaps this experience has helped me to grow up a little bit!_

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

After Perkins got her another cup of tea she was left mostly alone in the kitchen while preparations were being made for the baths and her bed chamber. Clarke recognized that she was very tired, exhausted really. The day had been horrendous. She wondered if Mercedes was well. They were only friends for a short time but Mercedes had felt like another sister to her and she had certainly been very kind and considerate, trying to help Clarke. 

 

_I wonder if she really believed me. Would I believe someone if they came here and said they were from 2017?_

 

Life was so very different in that time. Clarke would have loved to spend more time there to be able to explore that world. She was sure she would have learned so many things from those people and how they lived their lives. It seemed to be exciting for women even – Mercedes owned her own business. That was incredible for in her time women couldn’t do that. Not unless a father or husband had died and left if specifically to her and then someone (men) always thought the woman needed a man to guide her because she was not smart enough to make business decisions on her own. And yet neither Miller nor Bellamy seemed to be involved in her business and both seemed proud of her. She wasn’t married and was a few years older than Clarke, but no one seemed concerned or thought of her as an ‘old maid’. It was truly amazing for Clarke to think about those things. She remembered all the conversations she had heard, at the mall and in the car as she journeyed back here. Women seemed to be happy on their own and seemed to be in charge of their own lives.

 

Bellamy had even acted like he expected her to take care of herself, which also surprised her. Maybe that meant they didn’t have any protective regard for their women, but then she remembered their fear and concern while they waited for Mercedes to be found. No, they had regard for their women; they just expected different things from them.

 

And clearly the interactions between the sexes were entirely different than in this time. She remembered the kisses that she and Bellamy shared. They would never have happened in 1822. A heated blush spread over her, brightening her face and she had to turn it away when Perkins came in to let her know that her room was ready.

 

“You can go on up Miss Clarke. We will have the water up for a bath brought up as quickly as it heats. Would you like the soup sent up for you to eat while you wait?”

 

“That sounds wonderful Perkins, I would appreciate it very much,” Clarke told the housekeeper gratefully.

 

“Yes ma’am. And uh Miss Clarke, would you like me to take the clothes you are wearing and dispose of them? You have a few things in the closet in your room from your last visit you know.”

 

The clothes were incriminating and yet Clarke could not stand the thought of losing them. They were her only link to that other time, to Bellamy…

 

“No, I mean, please wash them, but bring them back to me. The owner might decide to come claim them,” she told Perkins.

 

She could only hope that would be true. In fact, she hoped with all her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW!!! Over 200 kudo's now. I'm so amazed and happy that so many are enjoying this story. Be prepared because there could be a little magic happening soon. Thank you all for reading, commenting and the kudos. I love you all!!
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> Next chapter: Mrs. Burton decides that she is going to get the truth about Clarkes disappearance, but it painful for all of them. Meanwhile, Clarke tries to figure out a way to let Bell, Miller and Mercedes know that she was real and from the past.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke struggles with different ideas on how to let them know she was home again. Mrs. Burton is more determined to get the truth out of the 3 rascals. Good luck, Mrs. Burton, lol.

Bellamy stood in the hallway trying to figure out where to look next; a plan of action, that’s what he needed. _You are always the man with the plan Bellamy, c’mon – think!_

 

He realized that he was holding his breath as that thought played through his mind and he let it out in a huge whoosh. He couldn’t think of a thing to do though. Mrs. Burton hadn’t seen her, she wasn’t in her room, where the hell could she be? There just weren’t that many places for her to go; not with the weather outside. The thought occurred to him that she might be in his room and he turned to head in that direction as if a wild cat was on his heels.

 

“Hey Bellamy,” Miller called out. He didn’t seem to have heard him and Miller frowned as he looked at Mercedes who was watching Bellamy with raised eyebrows. “Bellamy!” he tried again and saw that Bellamy had turned and headed down the hallway. Miller and Mercedes followed and watched as Bellamy went into his room. They finally caught up with him there as he was looking in his bathroom.

 

"Uh, Bellamy,” Mercedes tried, “Do you think she is in here?”

 

“How the hell should I know where she is?” he snapped. “She seems to appear and now disappear at the drop of a hat, so how would I even know where to look?” He looked at Mercedes sadly, shaking his head. “I – uh, I don’t know where to look.” He made his way over to the bed and sat down heavily, his shoulders slumping forward with an air of defeat.

Mercedes' breath caught in her throat as she witnessed Bellamy's pain. When tears started to run down his pale cheeks she sat down next to him and wrapped her small arms around him, hoping they might comfort him at least a little.

 

“Well, did you get the number of the women who gave her a ride? Maybe they stopped somewhere because of the rain, you know? It was really raining hard Bellamy,” Mercedes said to him. 

 

The idea brightened his face and he exclaimed, “Yeah, I have it on my phone. Mercedes you are brilliant!” He leaned over and kissed her soundly on the cheek before reaching for his phone and dialing.

 

“Hello, Melody? This is Bellamy Blake. I was just calling to check and see if uh, if you all stopped somewhere on the way to Archer House, because of the weather I mean.”

 

Mercedes and Miller watched as the look on Bellamy’s face went from hopeful to panic in the space of a few moments. They looked quickly at one another and Mercedes knew it wasn’t good, whatever had happened.

 

“When was that? Uh huh, yes the storm was terrible.” He listened for another minute and said, “So she got out of the car and then you just didn’t see her again? You mean like she ran into the house?” He chewed his lower lip while he paid attention to her last words.

 

“No, I understand. She must be somewhere here and we just haven’t seen her yet. Yes, it’s a very big house, that’s true. Okay, thanks so much for helping her, I appreciate it. Bye,” he said before hanging up his phone. His hand was shaking as he laid his phone down and the tears started in earnest now as he swallowed down a hiccup.

 

“They let her off in front of the house. It was pouring so hard they couldn’t really see her after she got out of the car and then it suddenly slowed way down, but they couldn’t see her anywhere. They assumed she came on into the house and left.”

 

“I don’t think she made it into the house.” He looked up at Miller; his eyes looked crushed. “Where is she?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Clarke sank down into the tub, trying to get as much of her body under the warm water as possible. In the short time in the ‘other time’ as she thought of it she had gotten used to that big bathing tub that you could fill very full with hot water. And again she felt almost selfish for the maids having to haul the water up all the stairs. But the water, even though only mildly warm felt good on her chilled body. She was covered with goose bumps from the cold temperature in the room as well and all in all the bath was not a satisfying experience, so she crawled out quickly and put on a heavy wrapper that Perkins had one of the maids bring up. The maid had even started a fire in the grate, but its heat seemed inadequate. Everything seemed inadequate she realized.

 

She thought of her room in the house in the other time; the room that was now Bree’s. The wonderfully soft carpeting, lights that came on when one touched a button, and the bathing room – it was a dream in itself. She sighed and wondered how she could miss it so much when she was there for so short amount of time. She stood as near to the blazing fire as she could stand and still she felt cold. It was a coldness of her spirit she realized, as well as her body.

 

_Oh Bellamy, do you know I am no longer there? Do you care or do you feel some sense of relief that I am not there?_

 

She felt hot tears stinging her eyes and vowed not to let them escape. She had done enough crying the past few days - it was time to find her strength and stop being so silly. She crossed the room and sat down on the high four poster bed; the bed that she had always loved before. Memories of all the visits she had in this house made her smile for a moment; how could she feel so sad when she was in a place she loved?

 

Yes, Bree could make anyone annoyed and often did and Aunt Beatrice never saw anything but what Bree did. As she thought about that she realized that was not always such a bad thing. She had performed many misdeeds that went unpunished because they were not noticed. Her feet swung unfettered as she perched on the side of the bed and she closed her eyes for a moment as she tried to decide what she must do.

 

Aunt Beatrice had probably already sent someone to Roberts Folly with news of her appearance there. She could probably expect her grandmother to arrive tomorrow with the carriage to take her home. As much as she missed her family though she realized she did not want to go back to Roberts Folly; not just yet. Here she felt some sense of connection with Bellamy and Mercedes and Miller. Which was silly she knew, but it was how she felt.

 

Right now, or at least in 200 years they would be walking these same halls, sitting in the same dining room or library. The same rooms! Was there a way to let them know she was home and alright?

 

Her mind raced frantically, thinking of the possibilities. The furnishings were all different of course; all that remained the same was the actual rooms, fixtures. Suddenly she remembered what she and Bellamy had seen in her father’s study at Roberts Folly. Their names carved into the wood of the library shelves. If she carved her name into something, would it remain there or would someone see it before they would and have it removed? Was it worth taking a chance? It would anger her aunt a great deal if she marred something in the house. 

 

She must think some more about it she realized. The idea could bear fruit.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The intercom in Bellamy’s room rang; Mrs. Burton told them that dinner was ready and Mercedes told her they would be down soon. All three shared a morose expression and prepared to go downstairs.

 

“I’m really not hungry,” Bellamy told them, reluctant to go downstairs. There would be questions about Clarke and he wondered how on earth they would answer them. What could they say, that she had just disappeared? Just like she came, here one moment, gone the next? Were they supposed to call the police? What good would that do?

 

_Oh come on Bellamy, you act like you believe that shit about her being from 1822!_

 

He looked at his friends, companions since they were toddlers and the people who knew him best. Concern was written all over both of their faces; concern for him and for Clarke. He cleared his throat and said, “Uh, what will we tell Mrs. Burton?”

 

“Good question,” Miller said with a frown. “She will of course ask and I’m not sure what to say!” 

 

Mercedes mentally rolled her eyes. Both Miller and Bellamy looked at her, obviously expecting her to come up with an answer. Well fine she decided, but it wouldn’t be one they liked. Could there possibly be one they would like? She doubted it.

 

“It’s not rocket science guys – we tell her that Clarke went home,” Mercedes suggested.

 

“WHAT?” they both chorused at once. “That – she won’t believe that!” Bellamy said, a look of horror on his face. 

 

"Got a better idea fella’s – now’s the time! Look, it’s the truth, as far as we know. Stick with the truth and hopefully she won’t ask too many questions. She uh, probably did go home you know.” Her last words were spoken kindly because Bellamy looked so upset her heart was breaking for him. She knew how hard it was for him – mainly because he didn’t believe she had come from another time. But if she didn’t go back to her own time, where was she? 

 

As Mercedes pondered that question she realized she did, absolutely did believe it. It’s the only answer that made sense. As if there could be any sense in believing someone traveled through time.

 

“Look, what else can we say? If we say she decided to go somewhere else there will be more questions about it. And if we say we don’t know she’ll have the police out here. No, it’s the only thing to say.”

 

Miller nodded his approval toward his sister. He didn’t like it but she was right. Bellamy looked like he was going to protest some more, but in reality, what else could they do. And Mercedes was right – it is probably what happened. So did he believe it he wondered? 

 

“C’mon Bellamy, she’s right. Let’s go downstairs and get it over with.” He put his hand on Bellamy’s shoulder and gave him a gentle nudge toward the door and Bellamy reluctantly headed that way, following Mercedes.

 

Mrs. Burton seemed to accept their explanation of why Clarke wasn’t with them, albeit skeptically. Her eyebrow lifted and she stared directly into Miller’s eyes, seeing if he would speak up. Miller was always the one as a child that would give up the truth, but he only returned her look unblinkingly. That in itself told her she wasn’t getting the truth – not the whole truth anyway. There was something mighty strange about that young lady’s comings and goings; something strange about the young lady herself. She had seemed like everything was a mystery to her; a surprise that she had never seen before.

 

_Oh well, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore if she’s gone home now._

 

She left the dining room to fetch their dinner and Miller mentally as well as physically sagged with relief when the door swung shut behind her. Mercedes laughed, a big belly laugh that made Miller join in. It finally spread to Bellamy and all three laughed hysterically. It was a stress reliever Mercedes realized as she wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. But it was also a desperate laugh for them because none of them wanted to believe that Clarke was gone. She had made a wonderful addition to their group; curious about things with a manner that was so easy to appreciate. There had been a vulnerability about her that made all three of them like her and want to help her.

 

_How could they believe her?_

_How could they not believe her?_

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Clarke contemplated different ways of leaving messages for them. She was not sure why it was important for her to do so and yet she knew it was. She had been there, it was real. They deserved to know she was telling the truth. She needed Bellamy to know that she loved him. As impossible, improbably it was – she loved him. Why she had been sent to that time to fall in love with someone she could never marry she was not sure. Two hundred years and his belief that she was lying lay between them and it was important for him to know she had not lied. 

 

_But how could she do that? There must be some way, there must!_

 

When she went down for dinner (in clothes that were hers from the closet) she found out that a messenger had been sent to Roberts Folly, along with instructions to bring back clothing for her for a visit. Which worked out well Clarke thought.

 

"I told them in the message that you were fine and had been given a ride here; also that I wished a visit with my favorite niece. It will do Bree and I both good fortune to spend time with you my dear; we simply do not see you often enough. And might I inconvenience you to spend a bit of time painting while you are here? The gardens are lovely and I so wish you could capture their grandeur! Your paintings are very pleasing my dearest girl.”

 

“Certainly Aunt Beatrice, I should like very much to paint for you. But I am afraid I do not have my paints with me, I lost them somewhere in the storm!” Clarke told her aunt, very pleased with herself. Yes, this could work out wonderfully she decided.

 

A plan of action started to form in her mind. She knew not whether it would work however. Her main concern was getting their attention 200 years from now. There were not that many things still in the house in the year 2017 that are here now she knew. She never had a chance to look in the attics to see if there were any paintings there, so she could not count on that. No, she must gain their attention first. 

 

And then the idea came to her that there were many books in the library that she was positive were still there. Affluent people of all times seemed to cherish libraries and while she did not see which books were there for sure, she was positive some of them must still be there. She could put notes in them, notes to Bellamy, Mercedes and Miller.

 

_But how could she get them to look in the books to begin with? That was the hard part!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am feeling so giddy with the responses to the story. Every kudo and comment makes my day a little brighter. Thank you all SO much.
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: When as much of the story finally comes out Mrs. Burton knows they aren't telling her everything but momentarily lets it go. But why does both Bellamy and Clarke think they can smell each other, 2 hundred years apart. Hmm...


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Burton pushes, and Mercedes finally admits that they don't really have any answers. Both Bellamy and Clarke, separated by two hundred years seem to catch the scent of one another. But that couldn't be real, could it?

Dinner was awkward at best. Mrs. Burton listened to Mercedes explanation of Clarke’s absence with clear skepticism. She wasn’t buying it for a moment they could all tell.

 

Elsie Burton had been the housekeeper here for more years than Miss Mercedes had been alive and she was frankly alternating between curiosity and outright anger that they were not telling her something. A funny thing about the human mind is that when it knows something is going on that isn’t being said, it always jumps to the most dire conclusions and Mrs. Burton’s mind acted in that tried and true logic. But she knew these scamps – they weren’t going to just up and confess like they did as children when a promised cookie took a person a long way towards getting the truth. No, that wasn’t going to work here she knew and that irritated her even more. 

 

Something had happened to Miss Clarke and she meant to find out exactly what! There was something very strange about that young woman, from her reactions to practically everything she saw to her manners. She really seemed like she came from some totally different place, but where that place could be Mrs. Burton had not a clue. Her manner of speech was so polite it was extraordinary; formal and yet very much spoken as one who expects to be listened to. 

 

Susan had complained incessantly about how Clarke had ‘basically acted like I was her personal maid, supposed to help her dress and such! “Where’d she grow up, a palace for heaven’s sake? Honestly Elsie, you’d have thought she was some rich, princess type! ‘You may leave me now!’ she said to me! Like she was dismissing me.” 

 

Susan had been very aggravated over that conversation with Miss Clarke, Mrs. Burton knew. Add that to the strange costume she had been wearing, and well, Mrs. Burton didn’t have any answers, but as she scrutinized the three people sitting at the table, eyes lowered and all uncommonly interested in their dinner plates, she knew they did. 

 

Bellamy was staring blankly at his plate; he was clearly distressed but not saying a word. No, when Bellamy was in this frame of mind a body wouldn’t get a word out of him. Mercedes had the slightest smile on her face as she studied Bellamy. Cool as a cucumber that one, and she never gave up a secret. But Miller was fussing with his silver ware, obviously trying to avoid questioning. He was the weak link; he always had been she thought with an inward smile. A boy of conscience he had always been the first one to break.

 

And break he would she determined!

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Almost 200 years in the past, 1822 to be exact Clarke was sitting at the very same dining table. Much of the furniture in the house was the same she had noticed.

 

Like many old estates it had been sold complete with furnishings. Some of the furniture had been replaced, out of necessity or desire, but this particular dining suite was the same. They sat next at the table, in their usual places, each lost in their own thoughts.

 

Clarke was not aware of that. She only knew that she ached to see him, all of them really, but Bellamy in particular.

 

She felt almost as if she had swallowed a bumble bee, rather jumpy inside. It was almost as if she could feel Bellamy, his warmth; smell the comforting scent that was all his. She would know that scent anywhere she decided, remembering it clearly like when her head had been buried in his neck. She inhaled deeply, trying to pull that scent in, to hold it in her head and heart forever. The bumble bee made her shiver, which brought on a sigh.

 

As she pushed her roasted pheasant around on her plate she tried to make it look as if she had partaken of it lest her Aunt Beatrice notice it had not been eaten. And that would surely bring questions as to why. Clarke had never been a hesitant eater as so many young ladies were. She was an active and vital young woman and her appetite generally reflected that fact. She scooped a tiny morsel onto her fork and brought it to her lips and had to make herself open her mouth to take the bite. Roasted pheasant with cranberry sauce was one of her favorite meals generally and she had only managed to eat a few small bites of it.

 

When Aunt Beatrice had indeed noticed her lack of enthusiasm over her dinner Clarke squirmed in her seat and groaned to herself. She finished the bite she was only half-heartedly chewing and swallowed it, fearing it would get caught in her throat.

 

“Clarke,” her aunt asked again, her commanding voice ringing loudly in the large dining room. “Clarke, why are you not eating? Does it not please you, this delightful meal?”

 

“It is – is lovely Aunt Beatrice. I believe I am just over-tired from my trying day. Please forgive my negligence and attention to this fine meal. I really believe I would just like to go to my room and rest, if I may?” she added, raising her eyes hopefully to her aunt.

 

Beatrice’s’ eyes narrowed speculatively over this comment. Clarke was not some frail and fragile miss, prone to skipping meals and uncommon quietness. There was more to this whole story than the girl was telling, Beatrice was sure. Perhaps she had tried to run away from Roberts Folly, to meet a lover. She was past the age of courting and romance surely, so ripe she was practically falling off the vine as the local old women would say. 

 

Perhaps a lover that Jacob did not approve of and the whole event fell wrong because of the storm? That was a possibility she reckoned. But Jacob indulged the girl past reason as she was his favorite. No, more likely it was Patience who did not approve of the man. Hopefully he was not a scoundrel, out to harm her or steal the fortune of the family. Despite Beatrice’s single-mindedness about her own daughter (who was only two years younger than Clarke and almost past her marriageable years herself) she did care for her niece, loved her in a distracted way. And she certainly did not want any shred of scandal to touch the family as it would affect them all.

 

With a smile that was sincere she decided that when she heard from Patience she would hear the whole story, but for tonight she would let Clarke be. Whatever had happened, it had evidently been upsetting for her and there was no harm in letting her rest.

 

“Certainly dear Clarke. Please go and rest as I dare say you look peaked and it will do you good. There should be nightclothes for you in your room, as I am sure you will appreciate. If you need anything else this night, please just ring and it will be provided.” Beatrice watched a grateful smile slowly spread over her niece’s face. She was right though, the girl was peaked and her eyes held an uncommon sadness that was never there before. As Clarke bid everyone a fair night and kissed her aunt on the cheek, Beatrice patted her face.

 

“I do believe you feel a bit warm Clarke. Yes, off to bed you go,” she told her and frowned as Clarke left the dining room, moving slowly which again was not like her. Perhaps she is ill Beatrice thought.

 

Clarke climbed the stairs slowly and half way up decided she needed a trip to the privy. It was either go out for that or use the chamber pot in her room, something she had never hesitated to do before. She turned and headed back down the stairs and outside.

 

_I do not think I shall ever be able to use the chamber pot again. It is amazing how used I got to indoor privies in 2017. No smell or mess, just press a handle and it all went away. I cannot imagine calling a servant now to carry my waste away. It seems repulsive now._

 

After the trip outside she finally made it upstairs and gratefully changed into the nightclothes. She did not call for help to undress and she also did not question that. She just undressed and pulled the nightclothes over her head and fastened the endless buttons herself.

 

Her ablutions for the night seemed strange to her; cleaning her teeth with a cloth instead of the wonderful tool called a tooth brush felt foreign. She missed the fresh taste of the toothpaste and vowed that since there was fresh mint that grew in the gardens that she could surely combine it with the powder they used to clean their teeth. The water was cold as she poured it from the ewer into the basin and splashed her face. The thin cloth of the towels seemed rough and inadequate compared to the thick and fluffy cloths of 2017. She frowned at herself in the mirror of the dressing table before picking up the candle and carrying it to the table beside the bed and pulled back the covers so she could get into bed.

 

Clarke sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. She felt lonely in a way she had never felt in her whole life. Maybe just ‘alone’ was a better way to describe it. She was in a house of family and yet she felt achingly alone. She leaned over and blew out the candle and sat back in the bed against the pillows and pulled her knees up so that she could wrap her arms around them. Resting her head against her knees she felt a hot tear slip down her cheek and roll off onto the covers.

 

_Oh Clarke, you must let this all go. Perhaps you did imagine it all – indeed it would be better for you if you did._

 

To have met the man you are supposed to be with in such a place and time is too cruel, especially in this world that already considered her unmarriageable at 25 years of age. This world was unforgiving; she felt young, she was young and had so much to accomplish in her life. But at 25 she knew that one of the things she would not accomplish would be a marriage and a family. And how she longed for little ones of her own. She let herself imagine children that were from her and Bellamy, but only briefly. They would be tall and sturdy, with dark hair and be confidant and strong. But the images slipped quickly away with her tears because they were mainly torture; torture to imagine something that could never happen.

 

“Oh Bellamy,” she sobbed, her bent knees only managing to muffle some of the sounds.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“So Miss Clarke has went back home? Is that the case Mr. Miller?” Mrs. Burton asked, setting the platter of ham on the table before gathering the salad plates.

 

Mercedes knew Mrs. Burton well – in many ways Mrs. Burton was more of a mother than her own had been. And so Mercedes knew that she was intent on answers. She also knew that Mrs. Burton would try to get them from Miller and that he would likely crack so she had to keep the questions focused on herself.

 

She tried to catch Miller’s eyes to warn him, but he was staying focused on his plate. Staying mercifully silent as well. _Good play Miller!_

 

“Yes, she went home. It was good that we had the chance to meet her though; nice girl.” Mercedes answered lightly. Since she had answered for Miller a tight frown streaked its way onto Mrs. Burton’s face. Her eyes flashed in irritation and Mercedes dipped her head to hide a small smirk.

 

“Will she be returning to visit? Or to pick up the uh, costume she was wearing when she came?” Her eyes focused on Bellamy at that question and glimmered with speculation as his head jerked up and he looked at her questioningly. 

 

_Ah, he didn’t know that we still have that._

 

“You saved them? Her clothes, you didn’t throw them out?” he asked, his voice tense and a bit higher than normal.

 

“I considered it – they are a mess, even after they have been washed. But they weren’t mine to dispose of and I meant to ask her what she wanted me to do; never got the chance. They weren’t wearable anymore, ripped to shreds they are. Well, not the under things so much.”

 

  _Let him think about that!_

 

“I uh, suppose I could take them and try to see that she gets them,” he offered, a hopeful tone in his voice.

 

“Oh Bellamy, I don’t think…” Mercedes started and was cut off by Mrs. Burton.

 

“Yes, I’ll get them for you when dinner is done. Just in case you see her,” she told him, watching him carefully. “Do you think you will?”

 

“I – I hope to. Very much,” he told her. 

 

Mercedes closed her eyes for a moment, thinking about how much he loved Clarke and in such a short time really. Was that what they called ‘soul mates’, two people that instantly recognize one another? If so she hoped with all her heart that there was one for her. Because the man she grew up with was not for her, even though for most of her life she had longed for it. Seeing Bellamy and Clarke together had only reinforced her recent decision that she didn’t love him, not like that. Bellamy had been smarter than she all those years by staying clear of any romantic involvement with her. At least this way she still had two big brothers…

 

Mrs. Burton carried the salad plates out to the kitchen, leaving the three alone for a few minutes. Mercedes took the opportunity to speak to both of them.

 

“Look you two, she’s fishing here. Let’s not let her catch anything. Bellamy, don’t say too much, and you,” she said as she pointed to Miller with her fork, “You just say _nothing!_ She always could get information out of you!”

 

Miller’s head snapped up to look at her as she spoke. “What the hell am I going to say Mercedes? That she seemed to drop out of the sky and apparently disappeared in the same manner? That she said she was from 1822 and that’s all we knew about her? Oh yeah, I’m going to say all that…”

 

Bellamy was quiet through this exchange of words. What else did they know about her? That she loved to paint and had mentioned she painted lots of things here at this house. That her aunt and uncle lived in this house, her mother’s brother? What else did they know? Not much, not much at all.

 

God he ached for her and he could swear that he could smell her, feel her warmth next to him. He looked at the empty chair next to him and wanted to reach out and touch… touch what? He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled slowly, convinced he could smell her. When he had met her she smelled like rain and sunshine and flowers – green grass and like … like Clarke. All those things. He wanted to breathe her in, this fragrance that he was imagining, breathe it in forever.

 

“Bellamy… Bellamy?” he finally heard Mercedes saying, penetrating his mind that was filled with Clarke and her scent.

 

His eyes popped back open and looked across at Mercedes, questioning her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

 

“I said be careful what you say. We can’t explain what happened and we certainly don’t understand it. It wouldn’t do any good to try to explain it to her.”

 

The door from the kitchen swung open and Mrs. Burton entered carrying several bowls of vegetables. “Explain what, and to who?” she asked them, setting the bowls down with an unnecessary snap. They both made a sharp clatter that was unnerving, much as her voice and expression were sharp.

 

Mercedes couldn’t help but wonder just exactly how much she might have overheard from the other side of the door. This is not going well she decided. Maybe a bit more of the truth is necessary and she took a big breath and let it out slowly.

 

“Look, we don’t really know anything. She left as mysteriously as she appeared. That’s all we know – really!” she said emphatically. 

 

Mrs. Burton recognized that she had finally heard the truth. Not all of it, but at least the truth. She smiled in satisfaction before leaving the room. 

 

Zero points here Mercedes, she chastised herself. Big fat ZERO!

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

They finished their meal, mostly in silence; each full of their own thoughts. Bellamy finally seemed to lose Clarke’s scent and he didn’t know if that was a blessing or not. While he loved it, it made it all so much more difficult. One thing was for sure, she was completely filling his mind and in resignation he realized that he couldn’t change that fact. He was the first to excuse himself to go up to bed.

 

As he climbed the stairs he felt drawn to another area of the house, down a different hallway. The house was very large, a mansion many would consider it and had about 15 bedrooms if he remembered correctly. Because of heating and cooling considerations they only used one small part of the house, except on the rare occasions when they hosted family reunions or large parties. His house Willow View was the same. 

 

He stood at the junction to the other hallway and headed down it, pulled by something he couldn’t understand nor explain. He stopped in front of a door to a room that he hadn’t been in since he was a kid. They used to play hide and seek in these rooms. They were all kept in excellent shape, ready for guests when needed, but they had all gotten their fannies spanked by Mrs. Burton many a time for playing in these rooms.

 

Bellamy stood in the hallway in front of this particular room and hesitantly put out his hand to touch the knob. He hesitated for a moment, although he wasn’t sure exactly why. Other than he told himself that it was completely crazy for him to be here.

 

_Hell, Bellamy, these past few days have been completely crazy. Why stop now?_

 

His fingers touched the knob and for a moment it felt almost warm to the touch and it surprised him so much he snatched his fingers back. He laughed at himself before reaching for the door knob again and ignored the warm sensation as he turned it.

 

It opened easily, which didn’t surprise him and he reached for the light switch next to the door. The light illuminated the room with a flood of bright light showing an ordinary bed room. But that wasn’t what got him.

The room was full of the scent of Clarke – everywhere he smelled her. He walked around the room, touching everything and she was here, he knew it. He saw his face in the mirror of the dressing table and his eyes were glittering brightly, his cheeks were high spots of color on a pale face, a face that was full of excitement.

 

He smelled her, he knew it. 

 

Bellamy sat down on the bed where the fragrance was stronger and he felt warm for the first time all evening.

 

Bellamy, he told himself, you have went completely over the edge. But that didn’t stop him from lying down and falling asleep, in that bed where he smelled the woman he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're over halfway to the end of the story! Will any of them find the way to change history? If so, will Clarke return to Bellamy or will Bellamy find his way to her? Hmm, lots of questions! What do you think? I'd love to read your ideas! Thanks for reading and commenting and all the kudos! Love you all!
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: It's just a dream, isn't it? But it felt so real. Bellamy and Clarke both wake up searching for the other after connecting in their dream. Bellamy gets an idea of how to start searching for Clarke's life.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Clarke and Bellamy deal with the emotions stirred up by their encounter, or was it a dream? Bellamy and Mercedes have a heart-to-heart talk which gives Bellamy something to think about and a plan of action.

Clarke was dreaming; she knew it had to be a dream and yet it felt so real. Bellamy was with her, in this bed and sharing his warmth and comfort. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and pulled him snugly against her. He felt so good she thought as she laid her lips against his neck, feeling the pulse beating frantically there. She tenderly licked that spot and traced it with her tongue which made Bellamy shiver and pull her tighter still before asking her how she knew to do that.

 

He ducked his head down to capture her lips, kissing her softly at first; tasting and nibbling until she was squirming with those feelings that grew in the pit of her stomach. She moaned softly against his mouth providing him the impetus to deepen the kiss; his tongue seeking her own and boldly stoking it, plundering delightfully until she was breathless. She felt hot and weak and she wanted him to never stop this madness. The kiss continued on and on and she begged him to never stop, never stop…

 

His hands roamed up and down her back, working their way under her nightclothes and when his hands made contact with bare skin goosebumps covered her skin and she cried out with joy. He cupped her delightful derrière and pulled it closer against his fully aroused manhood. Her leg went over his hip and she instinctively ground against him, rubbing their bodies together until neither one had any control of themselves. He sucked on the tender skin where her neck and jaw connected and she moaned, deep in her throat as he settled between her thighs before he pulled her even tighter to him, grinding his hardness between her legs and instantly felt the wetness that had gathered there. It was his lips that moaned this time and he rested his forehead against hers and tried to get his breathing under control.

 

She felt him trying to unbutton all the tiny buttons of the nightclothes and in impatience she pushed his fumbling fingers aside to do it herself. She needed his hands on her quickly in an effort to satisfy the longing, the desire that she never knew she was capable of feeling. When the impediment of the buttons was gone Bellamy worked the gown down past her shoulders and slid his mouth down her throat, licking enticingly along the way. When he found the tiny, throbbing vein where her shoulder and neck met he tormented it with soft kisses and sharp little nips of his teeth until she almost fainted from the pleasure that it brought her.

 

That sensation was speedily replaced with one a hundred times greater when his hot mouth slid ravenously to her breasts. Dear God, how could something feel so good? She heard herself whimpering, crying his name softly over and over, begging; begging for what? She did not know; she only knew she did not want this to stop.

 

Bellamy laved his tongue over her nipples, circling the tightly gathered buds with his searching tongue before sucking gently on them. Her body responded naturally, with great shudders from the intense feeling that first curled her toes before working up her legs as she pushed against him. The spasms of delight rocked her body in waves and her eyes squeezed tightly shut with the sensation.

 

She was shivering when she woke, lying half-undressed in the darkness of the room, very much alone. She could still smell him with her, on her and felt certain it was much more than a dream. It had to be.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Ah, Clarke!” Bellamy cried out, aware she was no longer in his arms. He woke abruptly and immediately the dream flooded his senses. No, it couldn’t be a dream, he could taste her, smell her and her arousal. He still felt the texture of her nipples beneath his tongue, sweet little rosettes that were taut with passion, desire. His own body was still achingly hard and he groaned with frustration because she was gone. He rolled over in bed and smacked his fist as hard as he could into the pillow and then groaned miserably.

 

Clarke, his head and heart cried out. She was here, she was! Or was he there? He didn’t have the answers to that question, but he didn’t doubt for a moment that they had been together. She was here, in this house and he meant to find a way to her.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Both Clarke and Bellamy tried fruitlessly to fall back asleep and into each other’s arms but neither accomplished it. From the same window both watched the dawn slowly awaken the sleepy world with bright streaks of orange and gold coloring the landscape. Just before dawn broke Bellamy went downstairs to make some coffee, a rich black brew that he hoped would wake him thoroughly from the remnants of a dream that wasn’t a dream. He brought the large mug upstairs with him, back to the same room where he had spent the torturous night and pulled the vanity chair over to the window to sit and watch the new day dawn. He sipped his coffee carefully after blowing on it a bit, watching the steam rise in lazy streams.

 

He was going crazy; he was convinced of it. He could still smell her, right here, right now and he even imagined he felt her warmth as well. He realized he was growing hard again just thinking about that and the memories of the dream. He sat the coffee cup down heavily and let out a curse as the still hot coffee sloshed over his hand and scalded it. 

 

“Damn!” he exclaimed and headed into the bathroom to run some cold water over the burn. It was red but not blistered and he realized the cold water felt good so he pulled off his wrinkled clothes and hopped into the shower to let the cold water pummel the dream out of his mind.

 

It didn’t work.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

At 5:00 am Clarke gave up on the pretense of sleep and rang the bell for a servant after she lit a candle. They would be up she knew and she wanted a cup of tea, hot and strong. While she waited she poured more cold water into the basin and splashed it over her face in an attempt to coax herself out of the still dream-like state she seemed to be in. Even the chilly water wasn’t enough to fully accomplish her intent she realized; her eyes felt dry and gritty and her skin still feverish to the touch. She patted the cold water from her face and took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

 

_Clarke, you must stop this nonsense! It was a dream, it WAS a dream. Wasn't it?_

 

There was a soft knock on the door and Clarke called out for the person to enter. It was Molly, her favorite upstairs maid and she was happy for that. Molly was 4 years younger than Clarke and always had a smile on her face that made her emerald green eyes sparkle.

 

“Yes miss,” Molly stated. “Are ye well?”

 

“Yes Molly, I am perfectly well. But I would like some tea please. Could you bring me some?”

 

“Certainly Miss Clarke, right away,” she said before leaving the room, softly clicking the door closed behind her.

 

Left alone again Clarke picked up the robe that was thrown across the bottom of the bed and pulled it around her, belting it tightly about her waist. She was chilled, in the same way she had been hot and flushed before; in a way that was not natural to her. She felt dull-witted and slow, consequences of not sleeping she supposed with a sigh. She pulled the vanity chair over to the window to watch the sunrise.

 

This was not an event that Clarke normally saw, much to her grandmother’s dismay. Patience thought every good woman should be up with the sun to manage the household, but this was one thing that Clarke refused to give in to despite years of prodding from her grandmother. Her father maintained that everyone's body had its own clock; ran on its own time so to speak. Clarke thought that made sense and only laughed at her grandmother’s attempts to get her up with the sun. Luckily grandmother had had more success with Ginnie.

 

The view was beautiful though she thought as she watched the golden light awaken the earth and its creatures. She listened to the birds chorusing their greeting in return and felt an unusual sense of connection with it all. I want to paint this she decided; this moment of first luminous light spreading across the land. She tried to firmly plant this memory in her mind so that she might do just that later, paint it.

 

He was still with her, she could tell. His warmth enveloped her and the rhythm of his heart beat surely within her as did her own. She did not really question this; it was her love for him she knew. She wondered if it would always be such as this; that she would carry him around forever through her life. Could this warmth, this flame continue without being nurtured by Bellamy himself?

 

She had the feeling that she might have to discover that and that thought made her so sad. Tears began to trace down her cheeks as she gave in to the anguish of a life without Bellamy. For right now she would have to cherish these feelings of connection with him, the scent of him and the warmth.

 

Her thoughts were interrupted when Molly knocked on the door with her tea. She quickly swiped the tears off of her cheeks and tried to compose herself. She bid her to come in and Molly entered with a tea tray which she sat on the vanity, near Clarke’s chair.

 

“Here ye go miss,” Molly told her as she lifted the cloth off of the tray. On it was a pot of steaming and fragrant tea and hot scones fresh out of the oven accompanied by a pot of honey. “Cook wasna sure if ye be hungry so we’s put some scones on it for ye, just in case.” 

 

Clarke’s mouth had started watering as soon as the aroma hit her nose. She was hungry, ravenous she decided and her eyes lit with the promised anticipation of the breakfast treat. “Oh yes, I am hungry Molly. Tell cook thank you very much!” She moved the chair over to the vanity and placed a napkin on her lap. 

 

_Oh, it smelled so good!_

 

“Alright then miss. Can I get ye anythin' else then?” Molly asked, watching Clarke sniff appreciatively at the tray. The lass was still peaked this morning she decided; Miss Beatrice wouldna be happy about this. No one knew for sure what happened to the lass yesterday but it couldna be a good thing – the poor lass looked so frightful when she got here. 

 

Clarke ate hungrily, consuming every single morsel with divine delight and even licking the sticky honey from her fingers. She refilled her cup with the still-hot tea and sipped appreciatively, enjoying its warmth as it slid down her throat. When she finished she felt better; not great she knew but better and that would have to be enough. She fully expected her grandmother to appear today and demand that she come home but Clarke was now more determined than ever after the dream to stay here for at least a while.

 

She knew of course that she could not stay forever, but she wanted, really wanted with all her heart to stay for a bit longer, to preserve the hope in her heart that she would somehow find her way back to Bellamy.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bellamy emerged from the shower still grumpy, still aroused and most importantly, still alone. Not that he could have realistically expected that to change he told himself, but it was okay to at least hope for a miracle wasn’t it? To believe that if you want something, need it so badly it might actually happen, right? 

 

I think you had better pick something a little more real Bellamy – not a girl that might exist 200 years in the past, he told himself. Of course it was possible that she existed 20 miles away as well and it was all just a lark for her.

 

He wished that; he wished for anger to take over as it did when she first appeared here. He didn’t believe her then, by what logical reason was there to believe it now? It was ridiculous, the idea and concept of time travel. Even considering the preposterous aspect of it, it was theoretically impossible. No Bellamy, don’t think like that – theoretically isn’t the right word, it implies that it could happen. No, the word should be positively impossible. A person could not travel through time, transported by a magical thunderstorm! No, he was right; she was just an impostor who wanted some money or something. Everyone wanted something, usually money from the Blake foundation.

 

If that were true why did she disappear now, without anything Bellamy, answer that one huh? He felt like the old comical sketch that had the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other and soon his head was spinning with indecision over what was real, or could be real and what wasn’t.

 

Bellamy was a smart guy, politically savvy, rational, a bit skeptical and no one’s fool but he realized that he was buying the impossibility of this situation. Buying it, hell he would invest in it. 

 

She wasn’t a fraud – his heart knew it even if his head wouldn’t acknowledge it yet.

 

He needed some air and so he decided to go for a ride. The dawn had shown that the skies were beautifully clear today, blue with only a few wispy hints of clouds floating by in the higher elevations. Yes he decided, riding was just what he needed as he made his way downstairs.

 

Mrs. Burton was in the kitchen, surveying the mess he had made this morning when he made his coffee. One eyebrow raised in question as she pointed to the mess strewn across the counter and asked, “You?”

 

A warm flush spread across his face and he tried to smile. “Yeah, I uh, couldn’t sleep this morning so I made some coffee.”

 

“Um hm. Made a mess too.” She was wiping spilled coffee grounds off the counter into her palm before throwing them into the sink. 

 

“I’m sorry. I guess I should have turned on the overhead light instead of the small one over the sink. I'll pay attention next time, I promise,” he told her as he headed for the outside door that would allow him to escape. Her next words stopped him cold.

 

“Took Miss Clarke’s clothes up to your room last night. You weren’t there.”

 

"I – uh, I wandered around the house for a bit. You know, restless and all.”

 

“Um hm. No one else saw you either. Just so you know.”

 

“The truth is I fell asleep in one of the other bedrooms, in the other hallway. I messed up the bed and shower in there, sorry.” He quickly exited the room, wanting only to escape more questions. He missed the speculative gleam in her eyes as she watched him go.

 

“Yup, that boy is up to something,” she said to herself and she started to fix breakfast. 

 

In the barn he saddled his favorite horse, Dakota Dream, practically on auto-pilot while he pondered the conversation with Mrs. Burton. Dakota tried to pull one of his favorite tricks, taking a big breath and holding it while his saddle is cinched on. If a rider doesn’t pay attention and you cinch it like that, you’ll get dumped on the ground when you mount because the horse lets the air out and the cinch is too loose. The result is that rider and saddle wind up upside down.

 

“Ah, c’mon Dakota, don’t do that this morning; it’s a beautiful day and I’ll let you run I promise. Dakota blinked large brown eyes at him and ignored the request. Bellamy sighed in resignation and pushed his knee into Dakota’s side, forcing him to let out the air and Bellamy quickly pulled the cinch tight and fastened it.

 

“See there boy, I got what I wanted in the end. Resistance is futile!” he laughed remembering that he had once heard that line in some science fiction movie but couldn’t remember which one. With a good natured shrug he mounted Dakota Dream and quick as a wink they were out of the barn and heading through open pasture, wind flowing through mane and hair, delighting both of them.

 

They exited the pasture on the far side and crossed over onto trails that surrounded the property. It wound through dense forest and a brook that babbled merrily on its way to meet up with the river, 5 miles away. The both stopped in the shade of some Golden Aspens and Dakota Dream lapped slowly at the water in the brook. Bellamy bent and splashed some of the icy water over his face and contemplated taking a drink. When they were kids they had often drank from the brook and none of them glowed green in the dark, but he wasn’t sure. For all that, he probably shouldn’t let Dakota drink from it either he thought. He scooped up some of the water into his palm, eyeing it cautiously.

 

“Don’t!” Mercedes called out as she rode up on Blizzard. She hopped down and Blizzard immediately followed Dakota’s lead and started drinking.

 

“Actually, I was wondering if I should let Dakota drink as well. We survived it as kids, but I sure think about it now. Hope it doesn’t hurt them,” he told her, tilting his head towards the horses that had finished drinking and were now munching the rich green grass that grew near the brook.

 

“I know – I wonder about it as well. Of course, the so-called conservationists around here, whom I totally believe work for industry say it’s perfectly safe, for us or them.” She looked at the water and shook her head, clearly not believing the rhetoric.

 

“It all looks so normal, so okay,” Bellamy said looking around the area. “The trees are green and thriving, the water still clear and yet species of animals and plants are dying off at a rate of 15 per day. We, as human beings I mean are certainly doing something wrong.”

 

“Well, until everyone believes that and takes steps to change it Bellamy, its not going to get better. I wonder what it was like in Clarke’s time.” As soon as she said it she watched sadness flood Bellamy’s face and wished she could call back her careless words. “I’m sorry Bellamy, so sorry…”

 

“It’s okay Mercedes. Do you really believe she was from the past? Could she be?”

 

“I don’t think she was from here Bellamy, if that helps. The past seems like the only plausible explanation, given her reactions to everything, how she spoke, carried herself. How else do we explain it?”

 

“Maybe she was an excellent actress?” Bellamy speculated. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath as he waited for Mercedes to respond.

 

“Anything’s possible Bellamy; that she was an excellent actress, that she escaped from a mental hospital – that she really was from 1822. Mrs. Burton said that her clothing was all hand stitched, did you know that? That the buttons were hand carved and that there was no elastic in any of it. What does that tell you?”

 

“That the costume was really authentic? Hell, I don’t know!” he told her running long fingers through his disheveled hair. He sat down under a tree and held his hand out to Mercedes to join him.

 

She smiled and took a seat, leaning back against the same sturdy trunk as Bellamy. A tree by the way that they had sat under hundreds of times before. History – this tree, this place had history for them and its meaning was somehow more important than it had been last week. She said as much to Bellamy and watched his face as he contemplated her words.

 

Bellamy gazed into the distance as he listened to Mercedes. History, the world was full of it. Lore passed on from person to person, written in history books, acknowledged everywhere. An idea came to him.

 

“Mercedes, do you suppose the town has any census documents from that time? Other types of property documents or anything?”

 

A quick smile spread across her face. “You know, I’ll bet they do! C’mon, let’s go dig into some history!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So was it a dream or something magical meant to show them they had to find a way to be together? What do you think?
> 
> Thanks so much for you kind support! The hit count as well as kudos and comments are making my heart sing happily! <3 <3 <3 I always love to hear what you think is happening and your thoughts on this story! Thanks so much for making my days a little brighter.
> 
>  
> 
> Next Chapter: Clarkes grandmother visits her, but Clarke decides not to let herself be bullied. But when Patience offers her kindness Clarke can actually see how her grandmother feels about her. Bellamy tries to tell Mercedes and Miller about what had happened between himself and Clarke and to his surprise, they don't think he is crazy.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy, Mercedes and Miller share breakfast and amidst the good-natured teasing Bellamy tries to explain what happened last night. He was still sure that she had been here or he was there, he wasn't sure but he also didn't care. He'd been with her and that was all that mattered.

A sharp rap upon her door heralded what Clarke assumed was Molly coming to pick up the tea tray. Instead, Patience Griffin strode into the room, followed by Molly whose face was flushed red as she looked apologetically at Clarke. It was not even seven yet which meant that grandmother had left Roberts Folly at sunrise.

 

“I told her ye wasna dressed yet or finished with yer tea miss, but she was …” Molly began, only to be cut off by Patience.

 

She looked at first Clarke in irritation and then turned her focus on Molly. “You may leave us now, girl,” she said in her most commanding and imposing voice. “And take those tea things with you.” She watched as Molly scooped up the tray and carried it to the door, trying very hard to not tip it as she bowed her head toward Patience, the most reverent gesture she could think of since she couldn’t bow to her. Not that Molly or the other servants bowed under normal circumstances but somehow Mrs. Griffin seemed to require it. Grateful to escape the piercing look in Mrs. Griffin’s faded gray eyes, she closed the door softly and then leaned against it with a sigh.

 

Clarke watched all this with a great deal of compassion for Molly; she knew exactly how the girl felt. On the best of days her grandmother was trying; when she was in this type of mood she was absolutely terrifying. Patience had her cane with her, an appliance she most certainly did not need, except to appear more intimidating than usual. She tapped it smartly on the floor twice to gather her granddaughter’s attention before she spoke.

 

“Well miss, what do you have to say about all this inconvenience into our lives? Do you have any idea at all how concerned your family was when you did not return home and the storm had started?” She raised the cane and pointed it at Clarke, as if to keep her still. It mattered not, Clarke could not have moved were a raging beast about to pounce upon her. Considering the situation that was truly what was happening she decided. She squared her shoulders and met her grandmother’s eyes, managing not to blink or flinch. 

 

Patience paused for a moment waiting for Clarke to speak. “Well girl, what have you got to say for yourself? And this entire nuisance you have caused in Beatrice and Grayson’s household as well?”

 

And that was the moment when Clarke got angry. She lifted her chin and sat down on the vanity chair, taking the time to wrap the robe around her legs before speaking. She knew that her grandmother would consider this impertinent, but at that moment Clarke no longer cared. Her whole life had been torn apart, not through her own doing or negligence and she had had enough. There were very few things within her control, but how she handled this was one and she was going to stand up for herself.

 

“Grandmother, under no possible circumstance was any of this ‘inconvenience’ caused by my actions! I did not choose for the storm to rage, which made me run in fear. I did not choose for lightning to strike me, making me unconscious, nor was it my plan for a stranger to find me and somehow convey me here, to aunt and uncles house. I do not know exactly how that happened but as I am your granddaughter I would assume that you would at the very least be thankful I am alive!”

 

Her words and tone were sharp and clipped but Patience recognized the truth in them. Still, she was not ready to let it go yet and she stated, “You chose to go out to paint in the first place Clarke and no doubt wandered much farther than was best for you. Is this not true?”

 

A quick breath, then another and Clarke answered, “Yes, I did.” Her chin rose a little bit higher as she continued to defiantly meet her grandmother’s eyes which widened a fraction at this admission; she had not expected it quite so easily. 

 

Patience nodded her head briefly, evidently satisfied as was evidenced by her next words. “Well, Beatrice wants you to stay for a visit. What say you?”

 

Quick tears stung Clarke’s eyes and she blinked rapidly, hoping to dispel them so that her grandmother might not see them. “I would like to stay for a visit, if I may be spared at home? The landscape is lovely here this time of year and I wish to paint.”

 

“Yes miss I dare say I can spare you; I’ve two other useless girls at home to keep me occupied. You may stay. I have brought clothes and paints with me. However I brought no canvas, you will have to fetch that from the village. Did you loose all your watercolors in the storm?”

 

“Yes grandmother, I did. And my easel as well. I know they are expensive and I am sorry for that.”

 

“Nonsense, they are just things Clarke. All that really mattered was you.” Patience smiled for the first time this morning and for a brief moment Clarke saw love for her eldest granddaughter shine in her eyes.

 

Clarke’s heart lightened as she rose and went to her grandmother and reached to hug her. Hugs were not common in their house and Patience understood that more had happened than was said, but that was okay. The truth would come in time, she was sure. She briefly hugged Clarke in return and felt her granddaughter stifle a sob. “There, there now Clarke, it will all be fine. Now dry your tears and I will leave so you may dress. Your aunt is quite worried about you.”

 

Clarke sniffled and let go – the moment was gone and it was time to move on. They were sturdy Griffin women and it was time to show that she was one of the sturdiest. “As you wish grandmother. I will see you downstairs.”

 

“I will have the maids bring in your things Clarke,” Patience said as she left the room. Clarke closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself and briefly hugged herself. How she wished it were Bellamy's arms…

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Molly brought in her trunks and then the art supplies. “Where would ye like them miss?” she inquired as she looked around the room.

 

“You can just place them in that corner for now Molly. And I hate to bother you, but could you bring me some warm water to wash in?”

 

“Bother me? Why, it’s me job miss, no bother. I will be back soon,” she promised, a puzzled look on her face.

 

Clarke opened one of her trunks to see what her grandmother had packed. Or the servants most likely under her grandmothers close scrutiny. She found a day gown that she was fond of, white muslin with a sheer over-dress of pale lilac tulle. It was belted under her breasts with a deeper shade of lilac ribbon and the cap sleeves and scooped neckline showed off her comely arms and neck to great advantage. She also found some extra lilac colored ribbons for her hair as well as her comb and brush and set about trying to tame the wild mass of curls that threatened to escape any ribbons that might try to restrain them. She was working hard at that when Molly returned with the warm water.

 

“Ooh miss, ye will look lovely in that dress I am sure, tis beautiful,” Molly said as she sat the pitcher of water on the commode. “There you go. Now miss, let me help you with that.” She took the brush from Clarke and started to work it through her hair. For a moment Clarke almost refused her help but then decided that it felt nice to be pampered. This was how this world worked and she needed to settle back down into it.

 

When Molly finally had all the tangles out of Clarke’s hair she pulled the screen around the commode. “There now, let’s give ye a bit of privacy to wash up while I make the bed for you. Shall I unpack your trunks as well?”

 

“That can wait for a bit I think – it will not take me long to wash, Molly. Thank you though.”

 

If Molly thought it strange how Clarke was behaving she certainly did not say so, but she did wonder about it. But who was she to understand the gentry she finally decided with a laugh as she made up the bed. By the time she was done Miss Clarke was also done washing and was ready to be dressed.

 

“Oh Molly, I forgot to get my under things out of the trunk. They are probably in the smaller trunk there,” she pointed to a black leather trunk with gold brads and bindings. Molly opened the trunk and found the requested items and before long Clarke was dressed and ready to go downstairs.

 

She paused to look one final time in the mirror as Molly finished tying up her hair and while her eyes were still a bit dark underneath, she did not look too bad. She hoped that her grandmother and aunt would accept the explanation of a restless night to explain the dark smudges under her eyes because there was certainly no hiding them. She remembered the paint on the women’s faces in 2017 and laughed to herself. 

 

_I would bet that they had a way to cover things like this!_

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bellamy and Mercedes raced through the pasture, their mounts neck and neck until Mercedes’ horse finally managed to pull ahead slightly. Bellamy laughed at how happy it made her as he took in her slightly pinked skin and the bright sparkle in her chocolate colored eyes. It felt good to laugh he decided and he vowed to try not to let this get him down so much. He felt renewed enthusiasm to find Clarke; or at least try to find out if she was real. That would be the first step.

 

If she really were from the past (and he was skeptical about it still) there has to be a way to do it, travel through time he decided. After all, she was here, if only briefly. So it wasn’t impossible he guessed. But he could only imagine the reactions most people would have if he started asking about how to do it. They would of course think he was nuts – gone over the ledge. He would, if someone tried to tell him something like this. The good thing of this all of course was that Mercedes and Miller met her too; they also believed her, probably more than he did.

 

By the time he and Mercedes took care of their mounts and made their way into the house it was around 7:00 and Bellamy realized he was hungry. Mrs. Burton had breakfast going and it smelled good!

 

“You two have a good ride?” she asked as they came in the door. She hadn’t even bothered to turn around because she knew by their laughter who it was.

 

“Yes!” Mercedes declared. “And we’re starving. What’s for breakfast?”

 

“Ham, waffles and scrambled eggs. Oh, and some fresh strawberries. Looks like the garden is just plumb full of them this year so get used to them,” she told them as she opened the oven to take out a platter piled high with golden brown waffles. She poured some maple syrup into a jug; it had been heating on the stove and then she started setting it all on a tray. “Well go on you two and get washed up. You’re not getting any of this until you do!”

 

With that ominous threat hanging in the air they both rushed to the sink, trying to push one another out of the way with their hips. Mrs. Burton watched them and wondered how many times through the years she had seen this same game played between them? Everything was always a competition with those two she thought with a shrug. She picked up the tray to head to the dining room and when Bellamy was done he said, “Here, let me carry that for you. Has to be heavy with your lead-weight waffles on it!”

 

She released the tray and then made to swat him for his impertinence, but was laughing too hard to aim properly. “Go on, before I change my mind about letting you have any!”

 

Miller was in the dining room reading the newspaper. He glanced up at them and smiled and Bellamy noticed he looked tired too. “Nice ride?” he asked as he folded the paper and set it aside.

 

“Yep! I beat him on the race home,” Mercedes laughed as she took her seat.

 

“It’s the horse, not the rider,” Bellamy offered. Mrs. Burton was putting all the food onto the table and Bellamy’s nose caught the aroma of the waffles. As a child he could practically eat his weight in Mrs. Burton’s waffles. He intended to do as much damage as he could this morning.

 

“Nothing wrong with Dakota Dream, Bellamy. You see, the problem is you have to actually have a little bit of skill to handle a horse that powerful. After all, he’s a smart one and knows you’re a pushover!” Mercedes was already piling a couple of waffles on her plate as she spoke. And trying very hard to not let Bellamy see her smile as she spoke.

 

“You know Mercedes, if I didn’t need this fork to tackle a pile of these waffles, I’d poke you for that one!” Bellamy answered. His fork sank into a couple of crispy waffles and he plopped them down on his plate before reaching for some ham. His ego was only a tiny bit bruised because Mercedes really was a much better rider than he was. “I bet I can eat more waffles than you,” he quipped.

 

“Duh! I’ll let you have that one. But you better watch out, it looks like your boyish figure is getting just a little bit pudgy, don’t you agree Miller?”

 

Miller raised his eyes and looked back and forth at the two of them. This was common with them, this constant teasing. He had always been a third party to it, rarely involved him very much. Miller was the serious one of the three, when they were together anyway. Away from here Bellamy was all business, but he always let go a bit on visits to Archer House. But frankly, the past couple of years Bellamy had been so preoccupied with trying to stay out of Mercedes sights to be very playful. Miller was glad to see them taunt and tease one another – it was like the status quo had returned; that all was right with the world.

 

Bellamy took his first bite of the waffle and chewed slowly as he appreciated the blend of crispness and sweetness from the waffle and the syrup. “Oh, this is heaven!” he exclaimed.

 

“Mm, it is!” Mercedes agreed. She popped a lusciously red strawberry into her mouth and savored that as well. “Okay Bellamy, where did you sleep last night? It wasn’t in your room because Mrs. Burton couldn’t find you; she took Clarke’s clothes in there and went looking for you when you weren’t there.”

 

Bellamy flushed slightly and pondered the question. He wondered exactly how much he should share about last night – certainly not the details of the dream he decided. Both Miller and Mercedes were watching him curiously as he thought the question over.

 

“I know it sounds weird but last night when I went up the stairs I, uh, got a strange feeling and headed down the other hallway. I felt compelled to go into the bedroom that’s next to the large painting of Archer House.” He held up his hand before they could both question him. “I don’t know why, I just did and when I went in there, I could smell Clarke. Strongly in fact. It sounds crazy, I know. But I just felt better being in there. It’s like she was in there too; I sat at the window for a long time and finally went to sleep on the bed. But that’s not the most crazy part – we were together, I felt her there.”

 

“You mean a dream, right?” Miller asked. His face had been composed as he listened to the explanation until this last part. His eyes had sparked with more interest – Bellamy decided that Miller probably thought he had gone over the edge, the abyss…

 

“No, I – I don’t know. It didn’t seem like a dream. It felt real, I’m telling you. I could smell her, taste her. She was there…”

 

“Bellamy – that’s uh, that’s impossible. I think. Damn, who knows?” Miller finished. Clearly he didn’t know what to expect. Was it any more outrageous to think that she was there with Bellamy when they believed that she had traveled through time? He was tapping the end of his fork on the table as he spoke and it was making a dull percussion sound.

 

“Yeah, well I thought I felt her, smelled her here at the table last night too, so maybe I am crazy. I don’t know anymore. Mercedes, you’re quiet, what do you think?”

 

“I guess I would say that I think anything is possible Bellamy. I might not have before, but I’m uh, coming around. Miller, Bellamy and I decided to go into town and see if we can find any old records from town, circa 1822. We can try to find out if she did exist back then. What do you think?”

 

“It seems a logical first step I guess. Her family was a notable one in this area because of the mill; there should be information about them. Bellamy, didn’t you say that at the house there were some things carved into a bookcase?”

 

“Yes, like growth markers carved into the bookcases in the library. For Clarke and her siblings. Couldn’t read ‘em all very clearly, but they were there. We could go and look again. And I wonder if there is anything in the attics there as well? A lot of times people leave that alone when they leave a house.”

 

“That’s a great idea Bellamy. You never know what we might find. Hey, this is going to be a day full of adventure!” Mercedes chimed in, clearly excited. 

 

“Um, I’ll tell you one thing though, that house is in pretty bad disrepair and really dirty so wear something you won’t mind getting dirty okay?” And he got to thinking of something else as well and added, “And we had better bring some jugs of water with us because there isn’t any there. And I just thought of something else. Remember when I found her she was painting? She had her easel and a canvas and paints with her. It was pretty washed out, but it looked good. Really good.”

 

“What happened to it?”

 

“I threw it into the back of my car. Still there actually. I’ll be right back,” he told them and went out to the garage to find the easel and canvas.

 

He found them in the back and carried them into the dining room. Mercedes held the canvas up to the light by the windows. She squinted her eyes a bit and her lips pursed as she examined the canvas. The painting was mostly done, even though it was splotched and ruined in spots by the rain, it was still lovely.

 

“It’s good – as you said, really good Bellamy. And, this canvas is old – very old. Not like canvas now days.” She turned it over and looked at the tacking on it. “See, its hand stretched and tacked, not stapled. Um hmm, really old. I’d say about 200 years or more.” She opened the easel and set the painting on it to admire it more.

 

Miller came over to admire it as well. “Her attention to detail is amazing. Look at the leaves on the trees; you would swear they really were blowing in the wind.” He bent closer to the painting and added, “You can even see veins on some of them.”

 

“Wow,” Bellamy said. He didn’t know anything about art, but he did like this. If Mercedes said the canvas itself was old he would take her word for it. She would know – as well as knowing if it were good. “I guess we can also check and see if she was a well-known artist as well, don’t you think?”

 

“That’s probably a good idea. If she painted more like this one they must be around somewhere,” Mercedes told them as she continued to admire the painting.

 

“Then let’s go talk to someone about art and the census,” Miller said.

 

“Well, it sounds like a plan then. C’mon, hurry up,” Mercedes urged, stuffing a huge bite of waffle into her mouth.

 

Miller smiled indulgently at his little sister. He loved her enthusiasm and he knew today they would have an adventure…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes admires the painting that Bellamy had put in his trunk when he'd found Clarke. Perhaps it inspires her to think about the possibilities? 
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments and kudos. I love them all! <3 <3 
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: Clarke decides on how to let them know she was really there. And when Clarke and Bree venture to the village and Bellamy, Mercedes and Miller do too another encounter makes Clarke more aware than ever of Bellamy. Would these magical moments be enough for them or will they each pursue a solution?


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip into Archers Grove brings them together again, as Clarke senses. Clarke must survive Bree's ill temper and Bellamy, Miller and Mercedes find some helpful information that leads them to their next stop.

Despite her nervousness because of her grandmother’s presence breakfast was quite pleasant Clarke decided. Aunt Beatrice and grandmother conversed about an upcoming flower show featuring their beloved orchids and very little was even said to Clarke, which suited her fine. Bree seemed extraordinarily quiet as well which left Clarke to think about Bellamy and how best to leave messages for him to find. She told herself that it was silly to even consider doing so – after all they would surely never survive 200 years anyway. But for some reason it was important for her to find a way. She knew that he thought she was not truthful about her life, so possibly, at least, he would see that she had been honest. It was futile to hope that she would ever see him again, but she was determined that he knew she did care for him; that she thought of him in her own life.

 

Even though she had eaten the scone earlier, she was still hungry and she ate her breakfast as she thought over what types of things might work. She considered leaving some notes in books, actually writing them into the covers – they might survive that way, if the book itself did that is. Still, she thought her most likely solution was to paint her messages and she mulled over the types of things that might work as she chewed her sausages and eggs.

 

She remembered the sunrise this morning and knew she must paint it, the glorious colors that melted together in such harmony. But Bellamy would not recognize that as a message so that would have to be done just for her own pleasure. What if she painted something from 2017, or rather blended it into her own time? Like that terrible bare park they had created where the maple grove was now? Or the lanes that had some type of rock covering them in the future? Or a bathing tub built right into the walls with a ‘shower’ above it? There were many possibilities to consider she decided, but whatever she chose would have to be a clear message that would not make people in this time concerned she had lost her wits. 

 

An idea began to grow in her head and she finally decided it was the right one. It was a splendid idea and one that, if they found the painting would be a clear message that she had been there without alarming anyone who might see it here and now.

 

It was a struggle to not hurry through the rest of breakfast but she knew that would alert her grandmother and Aunt Beatrice and she did not want to attract their notice so she forced herself to finish slowly and pay attention to the conversation around her. It was very hard because she felt such a sense of excitement and it was very hard to contain her exuberance. 

I must get to the village for paint and canvas, today, she decided with a smile!

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bellamy, Miller and Mercedes made the short trip into the village of Archer’s Grove to see what information they could find about the census or general history of the area. Archer’s Grove was a small New England village, built around a commons area or park where the villagers would still gather to chat and pass the time of day. The area businesses were scattered around the perimeter of the commons and surprisingly many were still there and had been for decades. Centuries was more like it Bellamy decided as he took in the architecture. The buildings were built of good, sturdy New England stone, brought in from local quarries. Some of these same buildings were probably here when Clarke walked these streets Bellamy thought with a bit of sadness. They parked the car and decided to start at the local library, a very small library and drastically lacking in local information Bellamy realized a short time later. 

 

“To find census information you’d have to check with the county seat or maybe even the genealogical library in Concord,” Leticia Redburn told them. She had been the librarian in the library for as long as anyone could remember. “Ayup, I dare say that genealogical library has lots of useful information for you. What in particular were you looking for?” Mercedes was positive that Miss Redburn had to be 80 if she were a day. But she still had bright, curious eyes, almost like a birds gaze as she stared at them from behind the round lenses of her wire-framed glasses.

 

“Well,” Mercedes said, leaning across the cool marble-topped counter, “we are looking for information about the Griffin family in particular.”

 

“No need to get so close Miss Miller, I’m not deaf you know,” the librarian told them, a frown pursing her lips. “Is this some kind a secret?”

 

Bellamy turned his head and coughed, to try to cover his laugh. It didn’t work. Miss Redburn focused her inquisitive gaze on him and asked, “You alright there Mr. Blake?”

 

“Uh yes, yes ma’am. I’m fine – just a, al- allergies you know?” For emphasis he coughed again and realized by the look on her face he hadn’t fooled the librarian at all. 

 

His face turned a bright shade of red, somewhere between a fuchsia and magenta Miller decided. Not his best color at all. He stepped forward and told Miss Redburn, “We’re rather curious. The Griffin’s were related to the Archer’s we understand and one of them was uh, an artist I believe. Just curious is all Miss Redburn.”

 

“Well, yes I do believe they were related, ayup. You got some of that artist’s paintings around your house? Any good?”

 

“Um, we aren’t really sure. If they are one of the Archer’s or Griffin’s I mean. But they made us curious and after all, what could be more fun on our time off to investigate this, uh, small mystery,” Mercedes told her, trying to look innocent.

 

“Um hmm, well if the painter was famous we got us some art books here that might have some information.” She obviously didn’t believe a word of what Mercedes said and Miller decided then and there that Mercedes had to keep her mouth shut. No one ever believed her because she always seemed so overly intent on her questions and that made people too curious and attracted attention. “You might talk to Horace Parker over at the paper. Ayup, he knows about a lot of that local history stuff.”

 

“Thank you Miss Redburn, for your very helpful information; we’ll go and talk to Mr. Parker. We should be leaving now. Sorry to have uh, interrupted your peaceful afternoon!” Miller said, herding Mercedes and Bellamy out of the library. 

 

Personally Bellamy couldn’t wait to get out of there but Mercedes was practically sputtering. “The - uh, she is so rude! She never liked me!”

 

“Gee, could it be the time you alphabetized all the cards in the Dewey decimal card catalog file? Or maybe the time you put the skunk into the library? What do you think?” Bellamy was laughing hysterically.

 

“They never pinned the skunk on me!” she protested. “NO ONE saw me!”

 

“No, but the whole town smelled you – for a week I seem to remember!” Miller added dryly. 

 

“Oh man, I always regretted not being here for that one!” Bellamy lamented. “I missed so much of the good stuff, I really did!”

 

“Yeah, well I thought your memory was supposed to fade when you get old? Not hers, that’s for sure. How does she remember that stuff; I barely remember,” she giggled. 

 

“Do you even remember the part where grandpa had to make a $10,000 dollar donation to the library to help get the smell out? Geez Mercedes, how the hell could you forget that?” 

 

“I was what, like 6? Young and stupid, I know, I know. I do however remember grandpa laughing and saying it was worth every penny, just to see the look on her face,” Mercedes added, wiping the tears off of her cheeks.

 

“Yeah, he had a real soft spot for you, that’s for sure.” Miller laughed and added, “C’mon, let’s go see Horace Parker. You didn’t ever prank him did you?” His eyes were shining with his own laughter. Mercedes had been a handful when they were growing up – still was for that matter but a better sister a guy could never ask for.

 

“Uh, besides putting the red ink into the printing reservoirs when I was working there? It was a mistake, really,” she said, trying to hide her face so they couldn’t see her smile.

 

“Um hmm. C’mon, let’s get this over with,” Miller said, heading across the street to the newspaper, The Archer’s Grove Informer.

 

The wooden sign still hung over the door way as it had when they were kids – most likely as it had a hundred years ago as well. Every year Mr. Parker got Tag Henderson to repaint it so that it always looked fresh and new. The paper used to be a daily paper, when the town was still thriving and there was lots of news to report. Now days it came out once a week in an attempt to keep the local folk informed of what was happening in their town. As if they hadn’t already found out over their own backyard fences and front door stoops.

 

Mr. Parker refused to put the wire news into the paper – it had always been local news and it was going to stay that way as long as he owned the paper he often declared. If a body wanted to know what else was going on in the world they had television news and the Boston Globe for that. He had grown up believing the newspaper, the local newspaper was the heart of the community and he would keep it that way, until he was no longer able to that is. These days though his body was moving a might more slowly and while he seriously refused to admit it, he wasn’t going to be doing this for too many more years. His machinery was old and outdated, just like his body and it was only him and Hoop Smith running the presses these days, but they managed to get the job done and he didn’t want to imagine not coming here every day to do it.

 

He looked up with a smile when he heard the small silver bell that hung over the door jingle. He smile broadened when he saw who his visitors were. Despite the fact that he knew that the red ink hadn’t been a complete mistake, he chose to believe otherwise because he liked Mercedes so much. The girl was full of fun and he had loved the two summers she worked here. Besides the red ink livened up the news a bit he’d always thought.

 

“Mercedes! And Miller and Bellamy, welcome to town. Good to see you all. Here for a nice long stay?” he inquired hopefully.

 

Mercedes hugged him and watched a slow flush spread across his face. The truth was that she was as pleased to see him as he was her. Some of her best memories were created right here in this paper. Mr. Parker had often been her co-conspirator and friend as well as her boss. He had sent her over to the library, many, many times to look up things and often came along himself, chatting with Miss Redburn. It had given Mercedes ample opportunity to rearrange the card catalog. Not that he was a party to that, heavens no! That was their story and they were sticking to it! And when he held her at arms-length for a good long look she caught his wink and knew that the story hadn’t changed.

 

“At least another week or so probably. Come to dinner one night, please?” she cajoled but the wide smile that broke across his wrinkled face told her she need not have bothered, he was pleased to have been asked.

 

“Of course, of course I’ll come to dinner.” He patted his stomach and added, “I could certainly use a bit of Elsie Burton’s cooking. My bachelor kitchen gets pretty spare, ayup!”

 

“Good, I’ll have her call you. Now, we need some information. Do you know anything about the Griffin’s and Archer’s?”

 

“Well, what specifically? Mercedes, there’s lots of information about them around here.”

 

“We were wondering if one of them was a painter, a Griffin actually. Also, if there were any census records around, stuff like that.”

 

“Hmm, well census stuff would be in the county seat probably and the genealogical library in Concord. There should be some local history books over at the library though. You should check with Miss Redburn,” Horace told them.

 

“We, uh, were just there. She said she didn’t have anything and sent us here to you. We didn’t really ask for local history books per se though. She said you knew lots about local history,” Mercedes told him.

 

He laughed out loud – a huge belly-laugh that reverberated through the small office. “Still don’t like you, does she, eh? She’ll ne’er forgive you the card catalog girl!”

 

Mercedes had the good grace to flush bright pink and then laughed. “No, I doubt she ever will either. What do you know about the Griffin’s Horace? Anything worth telling?”

 

“Well, I remember that Lawrence Griffin closed the mill around 1950 or so, I think his son died in WW II and old Lawrence just didn’t have anyone left in the family who was interested in it. His brother Samuel had died in WW II believe and he didn’t have any sons, only a daughter I think. There were some cousins I heard tell of, but don’t really know anything about.”

 

“What about the earlier Griffin’s? Any of them notable? Artists maybe?” Mercedes asked.

 

“I don’t really know; I mean none that I know of. Not impossible I guess and since it was a pretty big family fairly likely that there could have been someone who was an artist. Who are you looking for, in particular?” Horace asked with a speculative gleam in his eye. “Think you’ve made an artistic ‘find’ there at the house?”

 

“Um, well you never know. The artists name is Clarke Griffin, I believe. Uh, we believe that is.” Mercedes answered.

 

“Tell you what Mercedes, since you just happen to be my favorite intern – ever, I’ll see what I can dig up on a Miss Clarke Griffin. When did she live?”

 

All three stared at one another, not sure how to answer. If they gave a date how could they explain it? But if they didn’t it would be even harder for Horace to find any information.

 

Mercedes finally shrugged and told him, “In the early 19th century, we have reason to believe. Anything you could find would be helpful Horace and we’d appreciate it a lot.” She leaned over and gave him a kiss on his wrinkled cheek and smiled at his dear face. “I’ll have Mrs. Burton call you soon for dinner, okay?”

 

“Ayup, I’ll be looking forward to it!” He raised his hand to wave goodbye as the three of them left his office, heading across the common. 

 

_Now I wonder what that is all about._

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Clarke walked into Archer’s Grove in the late morning. Bree walked with her, complaining the whole way. 

 

“Why on earth are we walking? For goodness sake Clarke, this is what we have a carriage for!” she said as she tripped yet again on a rough patch on the path. Clarke hid a small smile as she rolled her eyes at her cousin’s complaints. Typical of Bree who would not walk anywhere if she were given the choice. “Bree, it is but 2 miles to the village and it is a lovely day. Can we not enjoy it peacefully?”

 

Bree let out an exasperated sigh and then shooed a bee away from her head with a nervous wave before wiping a damp tendril of hair away from her face. “Lovely day? It is hot and my hair is wilting in the humidity! Honestly Clarke, where do you get these ideas?”

 

“Look Bree, there is the village, right ahead,” she told her cousin as she pointed ahead of them. “We shall stop in to the hotel and have a pot of tea and a possibly a fruit tart. You always enjoy them and the strawberries should be rich and ripe now so I’m sure Mrs. Hollings will have strawberry tarts, with clotted cream. They are your favorite, are they not?” she said, trying to coax her cousin into silence, for even a few moments.

 

Bree ‘harrumphed’ in irritation but was blessedly quiet, no doubt contemplating the delicacies awaiting them at Mrs. Hollings’ hotel. Clarke was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth and sighed at her cousin’s silence. There was a slight breeze and it was gently blowing the leaves in the trees making a lovely musical sound. When you added in the other sounds of the woods, the birds calling out merrily to one another and the sound of a woodpecker somewhere, it sounded like a veritable symphony to Clarke, enchanting. It made her think about 2017 and how there were always so many sounds that you could not hear these kinds of things, only machines roaring, machines everywhere. Nothing was quiet there; how it must drive a body crazy she decided.

 

They entered the town and made their way to the common or town square. It was lovely and green with bright spots of colorful flowers growing in various patches around it. Benches were scattered around as well and many were occupied with friends and acquaintances and they moved slowly around the park, calling out greetings to everyone they knew. A few times they stopped and chatted with people, catching up on the news of the town. In small towns such as this everyone knew everyone else but sometimes the most interesting thing was hearing the same story told by three different people three different ways! Today was no exception and they laughed at some of the stories such as Mrs. Gingrich breaking her butter churn paddle over Mr. Gringrichs’ head when he came home very drunk. The missus was always hitting the mister over the head with something it seemed; his head was tougher than a rock it was said. 

 

As they moved past a vacant bench Bree declared, “We must sit for a few moments and watch the passers by Clarke; it is a very pleasant diversion.”

 

Clarke was anxious to get to the mercantile to make her purchases, but realized there would be no peace if she did not comply with Bree’s wishes so she sat down and called out greetings to others as they passed the bench.

 

Bree was chatting with Mrs. Rossiter and her daughter when the strangest feeling overcame Clarke. It took her breath away and made her shiver. But not from cold, indeed she felt quite warm. And then she realized that she felt Bellamy, could smell him. Right here in the commons. 

 

She sat there, shaken with her heart beating rapidly in her bosom. Bellamy had been here, she knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Mercedes was a bit of a scamp in her youth! The 3 indulge in a bit of fun about some of her escapades. But poor Clarke is stuck with Bree and her constant complaining. It will get better Clarke, really. :)
> 
> Thank you all for the love, kudos and comments! I'm so happy that you like this story so much! I was worried when I started posting it because it is certainly different than most Bellarke stories out there, so thank you for the taking the time to read and enjoy! <3
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: Bellamy, Miller and Mercedes find their first real proof, that Clarke was real, or it seems so at any rate. Clarke begins her project with the hope that Bellamy will see it one day.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip into town with Bree was less than fun, but Clarke makes the best of it. However for Bellamy, Mercedes and Miller it is time well spent as they determine their next destination.

_He had been here, she felt him. She knew it…_

 

Oh Clarke, the things you imagine. Maybe your wits _are_ addled she thought. She did not want to admit that but what else could she believe. He had not even been born yet! But she remembered her dream last night and how she had felt then and it was the same. Was it possible, possible that he somehow existed, in another time, and yet at the same time as she?

 

**“Clarke, Clarke!”**

 

She finally realized that Bree was speaking to her and she blinked several times to try to dispel the feeling of Bellamy and lifted an inquiring gaze to her cousin. “Yes Bree? I am sorry, I was preoccupied for a moment,” she admitted.

 

Clarke saw that the misses Murchison, Mary Catherine and Elizabeth Ann were standing in front of them and were looking at her with puzzled expressions, much like the one her cousin was wearing. Mary and Eliza were twins and both of them two years younger than her cousin. They were both also engaged to be married and were in the village to order fabrics for the wedding.

 

Despite the fact that Clarke was considered to be past a marriageable age, far past in fact, she harbored no resentment of these young ladies. However, the same could not be said of Bree she knew. The truth was that until she had met Bellamy there had not been a young man who appealed to her, in a marriageable way and now it did not matter. So her heart could feel only happiness for Mary and Eliza and she was glad to make their acquaintance here today. She knew that Bree had been trying to get her attention so that she would not have to entertain them on her own and listen to their excitement.

 

“How lovely to see you both. Bree and I are going to the hotel for some tea and tarts; would you care to accompany with us? I would love to hear all about the wedding!” she declared to the girls, completely ignoring her cousin’s dismay over the invitation. A bride’s happiness should be allowed to be shared and she genuinely looked forward to hearing of it when they accepted.

 

Bree of course had no choice but to agree that it would be lovely and so the four of them made their way to the hotel and waited patiently while a table was readied for them. Clarke’s feelings were not altogether altruistic of course; if the brides to be were chatting that meant she would have to listen less to Bree. She recognized that she should be ashamed of herself, but she felt only a tiny bit of dishonor for herself; she was not always nice she admitted. Especially where Bree was concerned.

 

An hour was passed pleasantly, for Clarke at least as she listened to the plans for the wedding. Both girls were equally animated about the plans, discussing it all in great detail. Clarke knew the wedding would be a very happy event and looked forward to it. She also knew that it was all that Bree could do to keep a pleasant look on her face as the subject of ribbons was discussed in detail. Finally Clarke realized that Bree was at the end of her patience and so she made their excuses and they bid the Murchison girls a good day and they left the hotel, with Bree sputtering her anger over a wasted hour. 

 

“Really Clarke, that was not necessary, to invite them to tea!” Bree complained in irritation. “They just go on and on about incessant details – I care nothing about it. Honestly, do they have another thought in their heads but wedding, wedding, wedding?”

 

“Um, that is doubtful, Bree. But I dare say you would not either if you were to be married.” Clarke watched her cousins face flush from the bright pink it already was to a deep red and she considered for a moment that she may have pushed Bree a bit too far. Luckily, they were entering the mercantile then and Bree, ever conscious of who might be watching snapped back the retort she had ready. But Clarke knew she would hear it on the walk home.

 

Bree decided to be even more petulant by refusing to help carry the purchases back to Archer House. “I refuse, it is hot and the canvases heavy and ungainly. No, you must have them delivered!” she stated, a triumphant smile on her face. It was a petty thing to do, as she well realized, but she determined that it was owed Clarke after the past wasted hour.

 

Clarke only smiled, aware of her cousin’s thoughts. She had expected something like this anyway. Had Bree agreed to help carry things home Clarke would have been surprised; which is why she had already made arrangements for Jed, one of their stable boys to pick them up later.

 

As she paid for her purchases and made the arrangements for Jed, her mind again went back to the picture she had in mind to paint. She knew she had the right idea and she could not wait to get started.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

At the library in Concord they only had a little luck, although there was lots of information there about the Griffin Mills and some about the family. Most of the personal information about the family came after the Civil War, with only snippets of information available on the family before that. When Bellamy inquired about the census reports, he ran into a road block.

 

“We do have the 1790 census available, as well as 1830 and 1840 and beyond. Did you know that the 1790 census was the first official census taken in the United States?” the woman at the information desk told him in a voice not much above a whisper. She was a volunteer at the library her name tag said, Mrs. Patterson. There weren’t that many other people in the library that Bellamy could see so he decided it must be occupational hazard.

 

“No, I wasn’t aware of that,” he told her. “What happened to the 1800, 1810 and 1820 censuses? Aren’t they done every 10 years?” He wondered if they didn’t do them that often at first.

 

“Well yes, they did, but sometimes old record keeping wasn’t kept very well,” she said with a smile. “We don’t know what happened to the 1800 census actually; it just seemed to have vanished over the years. However, the 1810 and 1820 were lost in a fire in 1923. Several other censuses were lost at that time as well, but I do believe Washington DC may have copies of some of them. At the time those censuses were done, they didn’t make too many copies you know, no microfilm,” she said with a sigh. Her expression seemed to say that such a situation would never happen now.

 

Bellamy had never really thought about it but when he considered how tedious it would have been to hand copy all the records it was a bit more understandable. “Um hm, well, could I see the 1790 and the 1830 censuses then?” he asked her. It would at least be a place to start. 

 

“Certainly. If you will just fill out this request form I’ll get the microfilm for you and you may view them on one of the readers,” she told him, handing him a form and a pen and then pointing to a bank of machines that were obviously the readers. 

 

“Thank you very much ma’am. You’ve been very helpful.” He completed the form and looked around the library for Miller and Mercedes who were nowhere in sight. While he waited for the woman to bring the microfilm to him, Mercedes walked up to the desk and asked if he got the information.

 

Bellamy explained the problem and they were thinking about their options when the woman came back to the desk. “Do you know how to operate the reader?” she inquired.

 

“Yes, I do,” Mercedes told her with a smile. When Bellamy raised an eyebrow in question she said, “I worked at a paper, remember?” which made the woman smile and nod as she handed the microfilm to Bellamy.

 

“There you are then. Any of the viewers should work fine. Please let me know if I can get you anything else,” she told them.

 

Bellamy nodded and followed Mercedes to the machines which were large and rather intimidating looking. Had they been some kind of computer Bellamy would have right at home; as it was he wouldn’t have known where to start with these monsters.

 

Mercedes laughed when she saw the totally confused expression on Bellamy’s face. “It’s not as bad as it looks Bellamy, I promise. Even you will be able to operate one of these!”

 

“Um hm – look, can it Mercedes and just show me, okay?” he told her with a grimace. He followed her and saw she was right, not nearly as bad as he expected. Load the spool, thread it through the eye and use the roller to move the film back and forward to find what you want to view.

 

Miller had found them by that time and Bellamy thought that he looked as confused as he had been a few minutes ago. Miller pulled up another seat and the three of them gathered around the viewer, scrolling through the records.

 

There were apparently thousands of records on the film and they didn’t have a clue where to look. Another library volunteer walked by and Mercedes stopped him and asked him about finding specific records.

 

“Keep in mind that this film has all the records for your county of choice on it,” he told them.

 

That surprised them all. “You mean, this is only our county?” Bellamy asked astonished by that information. “There appear to be thousands of records on it.”

 

“Yes, I’m sure there are. See,” he told them pointing to the top of a page, “Every page lists the township and that should help narrow it down a bit. All the records from a township will be together,” he said, apparently thinking that made it all so simple. One look at their three confused faces made him ask, “You do know what township you need don’t you?”

 

“Well, it’s the town of Archer’s Grove. Is that what you mean?” Mercedes asked hopefully.

 

“Well, that’s a start, but each town or village was divided into ‘townships’, a legal term and measurement to determine land holdings. Here, come with me and we’ll see if we can find the township you need!” 

 

He led them to another shelf that had massive books on it and hunted for one in particular. “See, this one covers Archer’s Grove, Millerton, all these other towns!” he said as he showed them the index. “Now, let’s see – the map of Archer’s Grove is on page 74 …” and as he spoke he flipped to the right page and showed them the map of ‘townships’ for Archer’s Grove. 

 

What they saw was a very symmetrical hand-drawn map of the town, divided into equal portions, lots of them. “Wow,” Bellamy said, amazed by it all. It was really interesting he decided as they located Roberts Folly on the map and then Archer House too.

 

“Different townships,” Mercedes said with a frown. “I would never have imagined that.” 

 

Roberts Folly was in Shadunoka Township. “That’s probably an old Indian name,” the volunteer told them. “Many of the old townships have them – here look, it’s Archer House in Fortune Township!”

 

He seemed very pleased to have found the information and eagerly took them back to the viewer. “Now, see the township names at the top of each page? All you have to do is find the ones you are looking for and a description will be given of the household including persons living there which will include family and servants and the acres, farm equipment, whatever the census taker might have thought was pertinent. All records aren’t necessarily the same you’ll notice.”

 

“Are they listed in alphabetical order?” Bellamy hoped they were.

 

The volunteer shook his head, “No, I’m sorry. They recorded these early censuses in the order they came in. They’ll skip around a lot. Hope all this helps!” he told them with a smile before moving on to let them look at the microfilm.

 

They searched for 35 minutes before they finally found Shadunoka Township. All three pairs of eyes were tired by then from squinting to peer at the dim records that were extremely hard to read. At one point Miller let out an exasperated breath and made a comment about penmanship obviously not being very important to the census takers. Some of the words could hardly be read.

 

“Yeah, well keep in mind that the language was a bit different too. Remember how Clarke spoke? Some of her words didn’t make a lot of sense to us!” Bellamy commented. ‘Wait, Mercedes go back! I think I saw something.”

 

All three of them read and then re-read the words on the screen. It certainly looked more like Sheaduna instead of Shadunoka, but the word ‘Griffin’ was relatively clear.

 

_All here to be living on some 60 acres of land in the household Griffin be Alexander Griffin, age 54 and his goode wife Patience, age 50. One sone Jacob, age 30 with wife Abigail, age 26 and sones, two being Jacksone, age 10 and Harrisone, age 6. And in this house hold also be 14 servants…_

 

It went on to list all the servants’ names, the number of cattle, pigs, oxen, donkey’s and every other creature that inhabited the household. More names than they wanted to read, all but one.

 

“But you know she wasn’t born yet, remember that. She was 25 so she was born when, like 1796 or 1797 maybe?” Mercedes reminded them. “And Bellamy, didn’t you see the names of her brothers in the library carved on the bookcases?”

 

His face perked up at that reminder. “Yes, and I’m sure one was Jackson, no ‘e’ at the end. I don’t remember the other. There were also a couple of other girls too, but I don’t remember their names either,” he told them. “Let’s see what the 1830 census tells us.”

 

Mercedes changed out the spools and it was much quicker to find the information on the 1830 census, although much more disappointing as well.

 

“It still shows Jacob and Jackson and his family, but no other family members. I wonder what happened to the others.” Mercedes commented.

 

“The girls probably got married, that is if there were any girls…” Bellamy added solemnly. “Maybe, there weren’t.”

 

“No, you saw other names in the library Bellamy. You did,” Mercedes told him.

 

“Well then, that’s our next stop – Roberts Folly, to check out the names,” Miller said. 

 

Mercedes took the spool out of the reader and put it back into its box so they could return it to the desk. When Bellamy handed it to the woman volunteer who helped him initially she asked him to wait a moment.

 

“I have a bit of information for you about the Griffin family. I made photo copies for you,” she told them and handed them a half dozen or so pages. 

 

As Bellamy glanced at them he saw the name Jacob Griffin on them and knew that they might have something. “Thank you so much Mrs. Patterson. How much do we owe you for the copies?”

 

She smiled and told him, “They are a nickel a copy. And it was my pleasure to help!” she told him. 

 

“Here you are,” he told her and handed her a twenty dollar bill. When she protested and then told him to wait for change he said, “No keep it. I’m sure you can always use donations. Thanks again!” 

 

They left the library, Bellamy eagerly scanning the pages of copies. “This appears to be from some local history book and is dated 1820. Maybe like some sort of ‘Who’s Who’, not sure. It mentions a party, Christmas maybe at Roberts Folly and mentions Jacob and his family: 2 sons and 3 daughters!” He read a bit more and added, “It doesn’t seem to give any of their names though. But that holds true with what I remember from the house!” His voice was excited as he read another passage.

 

‘Jacob’s eldest daughter, recently graduated from Miss Lydia Smythe’s finishing school is an accomplished artist! She had completed murals at several local homes including Roberts Folly, Archer House and Summers View, the later homes belonging to family.’

 

“It’s Clarke, it has to be!” he exclaimed

 

“It is looking good Bellamy. But let’s see, okay? Before you get too excited,” Miller told him, hoping to bring him down to earth a bit. “Mercedes, we don’t have any murals at Archer House do we?”

 

“No, they were often done in dining rooms, sort of ‘al fresco’ type of scenes. Our dining room has wallpaper on it. Probably covered it up decades ago. Bellamy, what about Roberts Folly? Do you remember any there?”

 

“I wasn’t really looking. I guess we’ll see soon though.” They were turning off the highway onto the road to Archer’s Grove. The name of the town now made him curious. “I wonder what grove there was that gave the town its name?”

 

“Maybe we should have stayed and found the entry for Archer House. We might have had an answer to that. Shall we go back?” Miller teased and then winced as Mercedes and Bellamy both yelled, “NO!”

 

“Alright then, that’s settled,” he laughed and turned down the lane to Roberts Folly.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Clarke immediately set out to the maple grove with a canvas, easel and paints as soon as they were delivered. She was already composing the picture in her mind and knew she was right; this would be the perfect message for Bellamy, Mercedes and Miller. She only had to make sure they got to see it.

 

She quickly sketched in the details and then started mixing her paints. She worked all afternoon and only reluctantly stopped when she told she must.

 

“Miss Clarke,” Jed said to her, “Mrs. Archer says ye are to come in to get ready for dinner and I am to tell you not to delay, that ye’ve been out here long enough!”

 

“Of course Jed. Will you carry the easel back for me?” she asked as she gathered her paints and brushes and then carefully picked up the canvas that was wet with paint.

 

Jed saw the painting as she gathered up the paints. “Why miss, tis the grove and verra lovely it is too.”

 

“Thank you Jed; it has quite a ways to go until it’s finished. But I rather like it myself!”

 

In the house Jed helped her carry the materials up to her room. She sat the canvas aside carefully placing it so that it would not get knocked over by accident. “Thank you Jed. Would you send Molly in to help me change for dinner?” She noticed how he perked up at her mention of the maid. A little romance there she wondered?

 

“Certainly miss. I’ll find her straightaway, dinna you worry,” he told her as he left her room.

 

Clarke was just finishing washing when Molly came into the room and called out a greeting.

 

“Here I be miss. Do ye know what ye would like to wear for dinner?”

 

“No, I have not even looked at what my grandmother brought for me. I see you unpacked my trunks this afternoon. Thank you. Now, let us see what we have!” They looked at several gowns and finally decided on a sky blue silk gown with a cream colored lace over dress. It was cool and comfortable and soon she was dressed, her hair done and ready for dinner.

 

“Ye look lovely miss. Tis a good color for you,” Molly said as she admired the results of their work. Clarke stared at her reflection in the mirror and agreed that it was a most beautiful color; it brought out the natural pink in her cheeks and lips. She smiled at Molly through the mirror and nodded her head.

 

“Yes, but it is good enough to please my aunt?” she laughed. We shall see she thought as she made her way downstairs to the salon to meet her family before dinner. We shall see…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has amazing patience with Bree, but manages to make Bree a bit uncomfortable which might have made it worth while. Now that they have proof that Clarke really did exist the three of them head to Roberts Folly.
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry to be so late today posting but I've been pretty sick; pneumonia is no ones friend, for sure. :( Thanks so much for the kudos and comments dear friends, they make even the bad things seem so much better.
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: Clarke is miserable at the thought of going home and determines to get her painting finished before Friday when her grandmother is sending the coach but her plans get interfered with, which breaks her heart. Roberts Folly proves a positive result for the group and Bellamy makes a quick decision which changes everything for the trio.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy takes a bold step in his need to find Clarke, but will it help? Clarke is devastated to know that she must soon leave Archer House to return home.

Clarke’s attire seemed to pass muster; in fact it was not commented on at all. Bree was decked out in her beloved royal blue as well, a color which did not look well on her at all. No one had ever told her that; Clarke would have thought it was apparent every time Bree looked in a mirror, but some things are obviously ignored. 

 

Bree had pale strawberry blond hair, with very pale skin that sported slightly reddened cheeks and freckles. She wasn’t homely – not at all actually but soft pale colors would suit her much better rather than the bold blues and reds she favored. Jewel tones her aunt called them. They only seemed to emphasize her pallor and ruddiness all the more. Not to mention that they were not colors that were at all popular right now. Clarke wished she dared to speak up and knew that she would not.

 

“Clarke,” her aunt told her, “Your grandmother wanted me to inform you that the coach will be here for you on Friday; you have a commitment on Saturday next, the charity dinner for the mill employees and their families. She hoped you remembered that.”

 

Clarke had completely forgotten that event although it had been an annual event for the past 3 years. Usually Clarke enjoyed it a great deal but her heart was not in it this year. It was not something that she could forgo so she determined to make the best of her time here. She was afraid that her connection with Bellamy, if there truly was one, would no longer exist if she were not here but it was something that could not be helped.

 

She must return to her life and hope that at least her message would get through; that they would at least know that she hadn't lied and was real.

 

“What were you painting this afternoon Clarke? You completely missed tea you know!” Bree told her, with a toss of her head.

 

“I – I was painting the maple grove. I do love those trees and who knows, they might not always be there.” 

 

“Do not be ridiculous Clarke. Who in their right mind would cut down the maple grove? The town was named for it and all those acres still produce the finest maple syrup around these parts,” her aunt chimed in. “Well, that idea is just preposterous, tear them down indeed!”

 

“I am certain no one would ever dare aunt, but it pleases me to paint the grove.” Clarke wondered as well who would have torn the trees down.

 

“I think it would be lovely if you painted a mural on my wall, over there above the buffet chest. Do you not agree dear?” Her aunt spoke to her uncle, clearly intending to include him in the conversation.

 

“Well, Clarke you are a fine artist. I think that would be, eh, very nice indeed. Yes, indeed!” he reiterated, nodding his head.

 

“Certainly I would be pleased to do that. What type of painting would you like?” she asked, addressing her aunt and uncle together.

 

“Well, I certainly think a landscape, possibly with the house and your maples would be just the thing, would you not agree?” Aunt Beatrice said.

 

“Alright then, I will start on it tomorrow.” She was disappointed because that meant she would not finish the grove before she left here and she had counted on it. Distress knotted in the pit of her stomach and knew that she could not eat another bite. “Aunt Beatrice, I find that I suddenly have a headache. Might I be excused? I believe I have eaten all I can at this point.”

 

Beatrice looked at Clarke and noticed that her cheeks had paled alarmingly. This is dreadful; she supposed she had allowed her niece to do too much this day and the thought fretted her. Patience would have her head if anything happened to her precious granddaughter. “Yes, yes, go and rest dear. Just ring the bell if you need anything!”

 

Clarke rose and made a hasty escape from the dining room. She was sorry to worry her aunt, but she felt a strong need to be alone. How she would love to sink down into the heavenly hot water of the bath tub of 2017 and soak in the wonderful smelling potions that you poured into it. She would have to make do with the 1822 version and as much as she felt guilty for making Molly haul all the water upstairs, she was going to have them do it none the less.

 

When she reached her room she saw that Molly had already lighted a lamp and laid out her night clothes. For a moment she considered just changing and crawling into bed, but she really wanted a bath so she rang the bell. Soon, Molly came to answer and she requested her bath and watched as Molly closed her door on her way to fetch the water.

 

It was dusk and she pulled the chair over to the window to sit and watch the last shadows fade away into the inky blackness of night. Soon all she could see were vague outlines of trees and she sighed, a sigh that seemed to carry a great deal of weight. Like her heart, it was heavy with pain.

 

The moon had not yet risen but the stars were shining brightly overhead. Several seemed to blink in the sky, like little white eyes that sparked and winked at her. What was their message she wondered for if they were winking they were certainly in good humor about something! That merry thought amused her and made her believe that as long as she could find humor in her life it might not be so bad at all. She was sitting there smiling when Molly, Jed and Patsy came into the room; Jed carrying the heavy hammered brass tub and Molly and Patsy with buckets of steaming water.

 

She watched while Jed sat the tub in front of the fireplace. There was no fire this warm evening, but the tiles in front of it made a good place for the tub; splashed water would do little damage there. Jed hastily left the room as Molly sat about moving the screen into place, but Clarke noticed the quick wink he gave Molly and the saucy smile she sent his way in return. Clarke hoped with all her heart that love would work out for these two people, if not for her.

 

“Why do we not have a specific room set aside for a bathing tub? So that it would not have to be fetched and carried upstairs every time someone wished to use it,” she wondered out loud.

 

Both Molly and Patsy stopped what they were doing and looked at her with startled expressions. “I – why miss, I dinna know,” Molly finally answered. “I guess no one ever really thought about it.”

 

“And yet it is such a sensible idea, do you not think?” Clarke asked. It was a practical idea and yet no one she knew, in 1822 anyway had such a thing. “It should be on the ground floor, in a small room with a fireplace for warmth. I think it is just the thing!”

 

She missed the look that passed between the girls; one that said to just humor the miss because she had been through something terrible. It must have addled her wits; indeed it must. But Patsy finally answered, “Certainly miss. A verra good idea indeed. Just the thing. Me an Molly will be leaving ye now miss if you dinna need anything else?”

“No, I will be fine. I’ll call when you can come back. Thank you,” she told them both as she prepared to undress. Molly had unbuttoned the back of her gown while Patsy finished getting the tub ready with the soap and towels, so all she need do was to remove it and her under things before climbing into the water.

 

The water might not have been quite so hot as the other tub would bring but it still felt awfully nice she decided. The chamomile soap was lovely too and all in all it was not too bad of an experience she decided. She just needed to forget about the other bath tub and water that ran on demand.

 

Forget also the deep brown eyes that reminded her of the rich color of molasses, eyes that sparkled with life and laughter, the warm and strong arms that held her close to keep her safe. The arms that had such delightful hands whose fingers made her feel things she was much better off not remembering. She tried during that bath to forget those things as she tried desperately to forget his lips; lips that kissed her until she ached for more, more kisses more, more…

 

More what? She still did not fully realize what more she wanted, needed. She remembered the devastatingly wonderful feeling that swept her body that night as she lay alone in the bed after Bellamy’s kisses. The same feeling had overcome her last night, waking her from the dream of Bellamy; the warmth of his arms and the delight of his lips on her body. She blushed as she remembered his lips and tongue stroking her nipples and making them ache so. Clarke was not sure whether she should feel shame or not for this exciting feeling because no one had ever told her about it.

 

She had received kisses from her father and brothers and yet they were not at all like the ones from Bellamy. And those other kisses did not feel at all the same either. No, those kisses, Bellamy’s kisses were the kisses of a lover, a – a husband. She was sure of it. But if he were not to be her husband, would she never feel those same feelings again?

 

She let her mind drift to the concept of soulmates. She had never before seriously considered such a thing, but she could now believe that when those souls meet, they somehow _know_ one another. When she and Bellamy met, it was like everything aligned; like their souls melted together. She didn't know any other way to describe her feelings for him, the trust, the feeling of being at home in his embrace.

 

That thought sent spears of pain through her; they were good feelings, they were right somehow and now that she knew they existed how could she live without them? But if Bellamy were the only man to make her feel that way, then she would never have them again and she suddenly felt horribly sad at that thought.

 

Or was it just because she would not have Bellamy?

 

The tears fell freely then, mixing with the rapidly cooling water of the bath. 

 

_Oh Clarke, you must find a way back to him, you must!_

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The trip to Roberts Folly was for the most part a quiet journey. Bellamy was preoccupied with his hopes that Clarke was real and that they could find their way back together. They had once so he believed they were meant to be together, regardless of where or when she came from.

Were they soulmates he wondered. That was a concept he had never before contemplated in his life; in fact he had often scoffed at the thought. That the universe created two people who were each a part of a whole? Yet, he couldn't help but believe that she was _indeed_ exactly that. He had to find her again; he'd make a bargain with God or do anything to be with her, whether it was here in 2017 or 1822, it didn't matter at all.

 

Miller and Mercedes were quiet as well, but for different reasons than Bellamy. Each was worried about him, each in their own way. Mercedes had decided that Clarke was the love of Bellamy’s life and that he would not be okay without her. Therefore the imperative was to find her and get her back here. Mercedes believed completely that Clarke was from another time and, like Bellamy, she figured if Clarke got here once it could be accomplished again.

 

Miller also believed that Clarke was the love of Bellamy’s life. Granted, it happened pretty rapidly but he believed it none the less. He wasn’t convinced that Clarke was from another time, not completely convinced anyway. He did believe she was gone though and he needed to help Bellamy try to find her and then when they couldn’t, help him to get over her. He figured that someone was going to have to have a logical approach here because Bellamy wouldn’t and Mercedes had stars shining so brightly in her eyes she was blinded to everything else.

 

Miller realized he was cynical about it all, he openly admitted it to himself but someone was going to have to pick up the pieces and that someone would be him. This was a role reversal for him and Bellamy. Bellamy was usually the cool one, the one who never got emotionally involved with anything. It didn’t matter whether it was a business situation or romantic one; Bellamy always had stayed a step removed from it so that he could keep his head clear.

 

Bellamy had dated, but never once had really gotten invested in the relationship. Usually it was a need for a date to a charity event of some kind and so the woman on his arm was some very suitable rich and attractive socialite who was so involved in their own life that they had no interest in his. Neat and clean, always. So, needless to say this situation was a bit alarming to Miller.

 

When the trio pulled up in front of Roberts Folly they let out a collective groan. It looked even worse than Bellamy remembered he thought; of course that might be because the first time he saw the place he was more concerned with the young woman who insisted this was her home.

 

“Wow,” Mercedes said, exclaiming what they all thought. She opened her car door and stepped out to walk closer to the house. Bellamy and Miller sat silently, taking it all in; the shutters that were either off or hanging loose and the white paint that was peeling off the columns in front of the house.

 

“How long has it been abandoned?” Miller asked. 

 

“I don’t know. When Lawrence closed the mill did he continue to live here? Do you know?” 

 

“Don’t have a clue.” Miller opened his car door and slid out from behind the driver’s seat to get a closer look at the house as well.

 

Bellamy joined him and they stood in front of the mansion; awed by the size of it and the presence it must have presented in its day. It was huge, not quite as large as Archer House but still very substantial.

 

Mercedes came walking from the side of the house and exclaimed, “Did you know there is a gazebo out there and fountains? Pretty impressive actually. There’s a carriage house and stables as well. But it’s all pretty overgrown.”

 

“Yeah and there’s a lake out back too, or at least a very large pond. But it is all covered with some kind of slime and smelled awful. I don’t think it would be safe, to swim in or even keep,” Bellamy told them. When they both looked at him questioningly he added, “Clarke had wandered back there; I found her on the ground by it after she had fallen and cut her leg. It was pretty gross.”

 

“Yes, Mrs. Burton said her things smelled terrible,” Mercedes said. “It’s no wonder with all the muck that is probably out back there. Well, let’s go in!”

 

Bellamy walked towards the front door and said, “Some of the stairs don’t seem too safe as well as the railing and the parquet floor in the entry hall is very warped and cracks when you walk on it. But I’ll bet this place was quite something in its day, I really do!”

 

“Oh my yes,” Mercedes agreed when they were inside the entry hall. That staircase is marvelous and I can just imagine ladies coming down it, their skirts sweeping the floor as they descended. What a shame though that this beautiful floor has been left to rot like this.”

 

“Yes, well be careful also about the floor because I see animal droppings on it; some of them large I’d say,” Miller added as he walked around the room.

 

“Over here is her father’s study, the room where the bookcases are,” he told them, leading them into the room. He walked up to the markings that read ‘Clarke’ and lovingly laid his hand on them, letting his fingers lightly trace the scratches. Miller and Mercedes both looked and saw her name. And the date: 9 years, March 23, 1806.

 

“Oh my God,” Miller said. “It’s true. Look at that, all these years marked on here showing how she grew.

 

“Yeah and over here are her siblings. See, Jackson and Virginia – these are pretty clear. She told me those were Marcella and Harrison, but we couldn’t read them. The dates, it all matches…”

 

Mercedes put her arm around Bellamy’s waist and gave him a quick hug before saying, “Yes, it does Bellamy!”

 

They spent more time trying to peel paint away from the other markings and finally they could read Marcella, but never really got a clear look at Harrison.

 

“Who in their right mind paints over beautiful woodwork like this anyway,” Mercedes fussed as she tried futilely to scrap at least 4 layers of heavy oil-based paint off of Harrison’s name. “It should be against the law – seriously!” she exclaimed in frustration.

 

“That would have been our grandparents – the generation who decided that old was bad and new was great I believe,” Miller added, working carefully with the small blade of his pocket knife on the markings for Marcella.

 

After an hour they decided they had as much of the paint off as they could get and were satisfied that the names were Jackson, Harrison, Clarke, Virginia and Marcella. For some reason they all felt triumphant about it even though it technically proved nothing. They decided to explore the house further and left the study and went through the downstairs rooms.

 

When they got to the dining room they all stopped dead in their tracks. On the wall opposite the doorway was a beautifully painted mural. Faded, but still visible they walked to it to examine it closer.

 

It appeared to be a panorama of the back lawn of the house, showing the gazebo and fountains and in the distance, the lake. Much of the paint had flaked off or worn away but someone, many someone’s through the years had worked hard to preserve it. But the most interesting thing about it was the barely legible signature in the corner: Clarke Griffin, 1820.

 

“I want to know if this place is for sale because I’m buying it,” Bellamy announced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both Bellamy and Clarke contemplate the thought that they are soulmates but will that actually help to bring them back together?
> 
> As always, thanks so much for the love! Comments and kudos are so appreciated and always welcome.
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: Mrs. Burton knows Bellamy is troubled and pushes him for answers but Mercedes steps in to divert her. Bellamy finds Clarkes message.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke accepts that she has to make the best of her life without Bellamy but it is a devastating blow to her. Bellamy's decision to buy the house even though it sounds like a crazy idea helps him to hope.

_“I want to know if this place is for sale because I’m buying it,”_ Bellamy announced.

 

Mercedes and Miller both stared at Bellamy in astonishment. “Are you joking? You had better be; this place would be a money pit!” Mercedes exclaimed as she looked nervously at Bellamy. She was shaking her head, clearly disturbed at Bellamy’s statement.

 

“No, I’m not. In fact I couldn’t be more serious. Why not buy it for heaven’s sake?” he asked them.

 

“I think Mercedes pointed out the most relevant fact; Bellamy, you’d sink a fortune in this place just trying to make it, what habitable? Do you actually want to live here, is that the point?” Miller turned to Mercedes and looked at her helplessly. He silently called out to her “Help me!”

 

She shrugged her shoulders helplessly, still shaking her head. Bellamy always functioned on logic; this was not logical. Nor practical or even normal as far as she could tell. What did he hope to accomplish by it she wondered. She finally voiced that thought.

 

“I do want to live here, yes. Is it practical, fuck no! But I feel – I feel like I have to, okay?” he told them as he walked slowly over to the mural and touched it lightly, tracing the graceful lines of the gazebo with his fingertip. “It’s crazy, I know. But she LIVED here; she – maybe she even died here, who knows. I can’t be with her but I can be here in this house; her house.” His voice cracked with his emotional declaration.

 

Mercedes heard that crack in his voice and knew that it was born of desperation and of love. Strangely she understood him, this Bellamy, the emotional one. He was normally so business-like and rational. Clarke had managed to spark a side of him that Mercedes had tried for years to find. And somehow she didn’t feel resentful; she felt happy for him. He knew what it was, real love – the kind that is simple and true, faithful and – and forever. Her breath caught in her chest and she swallowed a huge lump that was threatening to burst from her throat. 

 

“Then that is exactly what you should do Bellamy,” she told him.

 

"Are you both out of your freaking minds?” Miller asked, his voice resounding through the room like thunder. “Oh, this is rich! Mercedes, he has managed to convince you that this is a good idea now? What did I miss?” He wandered over to the window to try to look out but there was so much dirt and grime on the panes it was impossible; all he saw were blurred brown-tinged shapes that meant nothing to the human eye. “Think about this: it’s not a sound idea. Bellamy, I know you love her, I do. She was great and I do believe, however improbable that is, it seems that she was from 1822, that she lived in this house, I really do. But you can’t get her back by living in this house. I just don’t think it works that way.” He met Bellamy’s eyes and saw that he hadn’t swayed his friend at all. He nodded sadly and looked back out the window.

 

“How does it work then Miller?” Bellamy asked quietly.

 

Miller ran his hand through his hair, a hint of frustration evident in the gesture. “You know what? I don’t know Bellamy. I – I just don’t think that you living here is the answer. It just seems so improbable, impossible really. And not to mention bordering on, oh hell, crazy!”

 

"Like her appearing here in the first place?” Mercedes inquired softly. “The – the whole thing is crazy guys, let’s face it. People would think we were nuts if we tried to explain all this. Hell, we’d think we were nuts if we hadn’t been a part of it. But it happened Miller; it DID. Maybe if he lives here she will come back, who knows? Maybe not. Bellamy, are you prepared for that? Are you willing to risk waiting the rest of your life for something that might not ever happen?”

 

“I have to,” he told them simply. “I just – have to.” 

 

“I know Claire Carlisle over at the realty office. I’ll ask her about finding out who has title to this place,” Miller told Bellamy. He held out his hand to his best friend, hoping that Bellamy would reach out for his in return. He knew that he had hurt Bellamy with his disbelief. 

 

Bellamy didn’t hesitate for a moment before grabbing Miller’s hand and then took it farther and hugged him; a quick guy hug that Mercedes laughed at.

 

“You two, you’re impossible!” She wrapped her arms around both of them and pulled them all close together. 

 

The three musketeers they used to call themselves. As if remembering that in unison they all called out, their voices mingling together perfectly as it had through so many childhood adventures:

 

“All for one and one for all!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Clarke finished her bath and was shivering almost violently. It was cool in the room and while she was used to the fact it was not any easier to bear. She dried as quickly as she could and pulled on a voluminous nightgown that covered her from head to toe before slipping into the bed. She reached up to pull the bell for Molly and didn’t have to wait long for her to arrive.

 

“Yes miss? Oh, I see yer done with yer bath. I’ll just get Patsy and Jed and we’ll get this mess out of here for ye.” She noticed that Clarke was huddled under the covers, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she sat in the bed. “Be ye cold miss? I can get ye another quilt, I can.”

 

“Thank you Molly, that would be lovely,” Clarke told her gratefully.

 

Molly went to the chest at the end of the bed and pulled another quilt out and laid it over Clarke before saying, “I’ll get ye some tea after we get this tub out of here. Are you feeling alright though miss? Mayhaps coming down with a fever or something?” Molly asked. It wasna like Miss Clarke to be feeling so puny.

 

“I do believe I am fine Molly, but thank you for asking. I think I am only chilled, it is a bit drafty in here.”

 

Molly nodded before leaving to find Patsy and Jed. Personally Molly thought if Clarke wanted drafty she should go up to the attics where the servants slept; she’d see what drafty really was.

 

It wasn’t hard for her to find Jed; it never was when he was not in the stables grooming the horses. He could always be found close to wherever Molly was, waiting to catch a glimpse of her and if he were lucky a quick squeeze and kiss. She laughed at his attempts to catch her but she also knew she wanted him to. Jed was a fine man and one day would be head of the stables; he had a grand future in front of him, just as he was an exceptional figure of a man.

 

“Now then, where is Patsy?” she asked him after allowing him a quick kiss. 

 

“Most likely out in the hay with Rowley, just where I’d like to have ye me girl!” Jed answered, trying to pull her back into his arms.

 

Molly lightly swatted his hands away and said, “Well then go find her, we need to get the water and tub out of Miss Clarke’s room. I dinna think the lass is feeling too well. I want to get her into her bed and asleep!”

 

He mumbled into her neck that that was exactly where he’d like to get her and she laughed merrily. “Well, Romeo, you dinna have a chance if you displease me ye know!” and she laughed all the harder at his shocked look as he took off down the hall to find Patsy. She did not know what he was more surprised about – the fact that she told him he wouldna get into her bed where he had never been yet or the implication that he might actually get there sometime.

 

It didn’t take long for them to get the water and the tub out of the room and soon Clarke was sipping her tea in the quiet of the evening. Again she noticed the stillness and peace of the night and was appreciative of it. Even with all the others in the house she could only occasionally hear muffled sounds and the peace was not lost on her. She laid her head back against the headboard and thought about Bellamy.

 

She wondered what he was doing. Or would that be what he would be doing? She shook her head at the confusion of it all. Yet, if he did not exist right now somewhere – sometime – why did she feel his presence so often? She thought again of the feeling this afternoon in the commons and it was almost like he was right there with her, if only for but a moment. Like – like he had walked through her soul. 

 

Goose bumps rose along her arms at the remembrance and the tiny little hairs on the back of her neck rose wildly. She hugged herself tightly and prayed that tonight while she slept she would dream of him again. She was so tired that she knew she would slumber heavily though and it seemed doubtful. But still, she hoped.

 

Yes, she hoped with all her heart.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The rest of the evening flew past for the three musketeers. Miller left a message for Claire and Bellamy jumped nervously every time the phone rang but in the end they didn’t hear from her that night.

 

Bellamy only picked nervously at his dinner Mrs. Burton noticed and wondered what was up with the boy. He sure was acting mysteriously she decided and wondered if she asked him about it if he would actually tell her. She decided to go for it when she picked up his plate that had no more than a few bites of food gone from it.

 

“You know, you just barely touched that roast beef I spent all afternoon on. Not like you, that’s one of your favorites, if I remember correctly. Do I?” she asked.

 

“Yes, it is. I guess I’m just not too hungry. I’m tired for one thing because I didn’t sleep very well last night,” he responded, looking down at the table and playing with his napkin.

 

“Um hm. You planning on sleeping in your own room tonight? Or should I get the other room ready for you?”

 

“I think I’d like to stay in the other room, if you don’t mind making it up that is? I don’t want to be a bother though.” He looked up at her as he replied and his eyes were full of shadows.

 

Ayup, something was bothering the boy. “No, it’s not a problem. Be worth it if you get some sleep and stay outta my kitchen at the crack of dawn and not make messes. So Bellamy, what do you suppose is bothering you anyway? Have anything to do with Miss Clarke being gone?”

 

Bellamy’s eyes grew large with his surprise and then darkened perceptibly. Mercedes noticed and immediately interrupted the conversation. “Oh, by the way, we ran into Horace Parker today. I told him you would call and set a date for him to come to dinner! He is really looking forward to it Mrs. Burton. Can you call him soon please? I don’t want to disappoint him,” Mercedes said.

 

Mrs. Burton’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. She knew that Mercedes was trying to draw her attention away from Bellamy. That scamp had always been good at it too and she decided to let it work tonight. From the looks of Bellamy he wasn’t up to any real questioning so she replied, “Yes, I’ll call him tomorrow. Haven’t seen Horace for a while and it’s always fun to have him to dinner.”

 

Mercedes smiled at her; they shared a penetrating look for a moment and both nodded, each accepting what had happened. But Mercedes also knew that she was suspicious and wasn’t going to let it go.

 

“I’ll get that room done for you Bellamy, only take a few minutes. You want to move your toilet articles or should I?”

 

“I’ll do it – thank you Mrs. Burton, I appreciate the trouble you’re going to,” he told her.

 

“No trouble, just my job.” She left the room and Bellamy let out a deep breath. He knew she was going to ask more questions too, the only thing would be how long she waited to do it. 

 

All three knew it wouldn’t be long.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

They watched a movie on TV, or at least pretended to. None of them could have said later what it was or what it was about, but it killed time and gave them something to do while acting as if they weren’t waiting on pins and needles for the phone call from Claire. At eleven they all gave up the pretense and said their goodnights as they made their way up the stairs. Bellamy headed off down the opposite hallway from Miller and Mercedes and stopped in front of the door to his room. 

 

That’s when the painting caught his eye. Really caught it, because he had seen it before, lots of times. He had always liked it actually, but now there was something about it and he suddenly knew what it was. He gulped a huge breath, his heart hammering loudly in his ears and he just tried to breathe. He called out to Miller and Mercedes who came running down the hallway.

 

“Look, at this painting,” he told them, his voice shaky as he peered at it closely. A slow smile crept across his face as he lightly traced something in the bottom corner. “Look, right here before our eyes,” he exclaimed triumphantly.

 

“Yes, it’s the grove,” Miller said. “Or at least what used to be the grove I would imagine.”

 

Bellamy was still staring at the painting, touching it tenderly, almost reverently. “No Miller, really look at it!”

 

Miller and Mercedes both frowned in concentration at the painting. It was the grove, only much bigger than it was now. The colors of the trees were magnificent, bright green against a perfect cerulean blue sky. In front of the grove was the road, you could barely make out the white stripes in the lane, the painting was so old.

 

It finally penetrated Mercedes mind what she was looking at. Tears started to run down her cheeks and she grabbed Bellamy and hugged him tightly! Her eyes found the signature then and she nodded at Bellamy. “She did it, she sent us a message!”

 

Miller stood for a moment more and then it became clear to him as well. The road, the road that obviously would not have been there in Clarke’s time. And a signature at the bottom of the painting: 

 

Clarke Griffin, 1822.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He found that clue, didn't he? Right in front of him all along. Sort of... ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks, as always for your comments and kudos my lovely friends. Your support means so much especially as I've been recovering from that nasty pneumonia! Doing much better now though, starting to get sarcastic again, lol. 
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: Again our soulmates are separated by a mere breath and 200 years. Mercedes and Miller make a trip exploring the attic and find big treasure.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The discovery of the painting makes Bellamy reel from the implications; that she was really in 2017 but that she actually lived in 1822. She felt further away than ever to him.

Understanding washed across Miller’s face and he started grinning from ear to ear. “You’re right Bellamy, a message from Clarke!”

 

“It has to be,” Mercedes said with a laugh. “This picture has been here forever and remember that when we were kids the road didn’t even have stripes? It was just a simple asphalt lane back then. She painted the grove, as it is in her time and the road as it is now. A very clear message I would say!”

 

Bellamy nodded and slowly sank down on the floor to contemplate it all. Mercedes and Miller did the same and the three of them were lost in thought for a few minutes. It was real they realized, Clarke had been telling the truth. But with that realization brought despair to Bellamy’s heart.

 

He leaned his head back against the wall and for a moment pain washed over him. Since she had been telling the truth, they now knew it for a fact, then that meant that 200 years separated them. She was gone, probably forever and Bellamy had no idea how to handle that fact.

 

Mercedes was looking at Bellamy watchfully, a deep frown furrowing her forehead. Bellamy’s eyes were shut tightly and he looked grim, his face a mask of pain and desperation that alarmed her. She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently; his hand felt cold and stiff in her own. Miller caught her look and saw what she did as he stared at Bellamy as well.

 

“Look Bellamy, she made it here once – maybe she can again!” Miller told him hopefully. 

 

“Yeah, a – a fluke. A torrential thunderstorm, a bolt of lightning, who knows? It apparently took her away too, like, like she wasn’t supposed to be here. Like nature realized its mistake and took her back to her own time. But it took my heart too!” he declared and then drew in a deep breath before continuing on. “This is all just so crazy. You know that, just like I do. It’s the stuff they make movies out of, star-crossed lovers or some such thing. But it’s my life, it’s real, it happened. The whole thing is impossible, crazy, you know that, right? We know it, and yet…”

 

“And yet it happened,” Miller said.

 

“Look Bellamy, we all know that it happened. So we’re not crazy, it DID happen. And if it happened once, it can happen again; we have to make it happen,” Mercedes finished adamantly.

 

“How?” Bellamy asked. He got to his feet then and held out a hand to help Mercedes up as well. “I’m going to bed,” he told them both and reached for the door knob of his new room. As he opened the door he turned to look at his two best friends; companions and co-conspirators as well. With a sad smile that broke both Mercedes and Miller’s heart he turned and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

 

“Brother mine, what are we going to do?”

 

Sadly, Miller didn’t know.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Clarke finished her tea and sat back in the bed. The room seemed cozy in the glow of the candle, but it only made her remember this house in 2017; the way that the lamps lit a room without the flame of a candle. They made the shadows of a room disappear and right now this room had entirely too many shadows.

 

Maybe the shadows were all in her mind, she did not really know. All she knew was that she missed Bellamy and that time. It was real, she knew it was; she knew that she really had been there. It was a wondrous time; amazing and frightening at the same time. Life was so much more convenient in 2017; and yet at the same time so much gentility and civility was gone. There were people everywhere and the noise was horrendous; it came at you from all sides. Noise in the house, in the mechanical carriage and oh, that place called the mall was deafening. But no one noticed or seemed to care. The answer to that was simple she realized; they knew no better.

 

So maybe the shadows are not so bad she decided because the shadows also meant that there was quiet. She wondered if she had remained in 2017 would she ever have gotten used to the sounds that were a part of that world.

 

She leaned over and blew the candle out with a long breath. She could see the wisps of smoke spiraling upward in the bright light of the moon which was shining through the bedroom window. She watched it curl upward and finally disappear into the shadows that held the room hostage for another long night. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Miller,” Mercedes said as they sat in the hallway outside of Bellamy’s room, “do you remember years ago, when we were teenagers and we were scavenging around in the attics?”

 

“Sure, why?” he asked distractedly. Miller’s thoughts were still on Bellamy and the pain that had been reflected on his face. It was just fine to know that Clarke had been real, truthful in fact, but it was altogether something else for her to have somehow traveled though time to be here. There wasn’t any way to contact her, to ‘reach out and touch’ her, like the old phone commercials said. Bellamy wasn’t only miserable, he was despondent and frankly Miller didn’t have a clue as to how to handle that; he’d never seen Bellamy like this before.

 

Mercedes sat picking at the carpet as she spoke, wearing a look of concentration on her pixyish face. “Remember back in the far corner in the west wing? We found crates full of old paintings? I think we should go and take a look at them!” She got to her feet and dusted her jeans off, a gesture that made Miller smile. As if there was anything on Mrs. Burton’s pristine carpets to pick up.

 

Mercedes held out her hand to Miller and he grabbed it and rose to his feet. “What’s up Mercedes? They were just a bunch of old paintings…” he said, his words trailing off. Suddenly he smiled. They had recently had an artist in the house, hadn’t they? And then another thought occurred to him.

 

"C’mon,” he said, heading down the hall at a trot, Mercedes hot on his heels.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bellamy stood looking out the window in the bedroom. Bright moonlight flooded into the room, streaking the floor and walls with an eerie luminescence. The moon was just a tinge off of full; another day it would be completely full. He could see the stables in the distance and every now and then see the leaves on the trees shiver in the breeze.

 

For a moment he smelled something acrid that stung his nose and he looked around the room, wondering what it was. It smelled almost like when a candle is blown out but there had been no candles going in this room, for, well perhaps many years. The moonlight revealed nothing, only shadows and dark corners and Bellamy shrugged and went back to his view. For a moment he contemplated going for a ride in the moonlight; it might just help him settle down. Eventually he decided against the idea; he felt compelled to stay in the room. It was a silly romantic notion he knew, but he did feel closer to Clarke here and so here he stayed.

 

He thought about Robert’s Folly and all that had to be done to it, just to make it habitable. He chastised himself for even thinking about it and wondered if eventually they would call it ‘Bellamy’s Folly’ instead. He leaned his forehead against the glass pane of the window and sighed. Again he thought he smelled something acrid, like something burning but a quick glance around the room showed nothing out of place or on fire. He shook his head to clear it, his thoughts returning to Robert’s Folly.

 

His sister, Tavie was going to think he was crazy. They had their own home, the home that had been in their family for generations. Miller and Mercedes at least understood why he was doing it, even if they thought he was foolish. And he probably was, but it felt like the only connection he had to Clarke, and he couldn’t let it slip away. He knew that it was only a tenuous connection at best, but it was all he had.

 

He asked himself if he was willing to live the rest of his life with only a house to remind him of her. Hell, he’d suggest someone be locked up for something like this. But he was compelled to do it; he couldn’t explain it any better than that. Not to himself, or anyone else for that matter.

 

He rested his forearm against the window frame and a million thoughts rushed at him; getting a contractor, a landscaper, electricians and plumbers. The list would go on and on. He was happy that the house seemed to be in good shape structurally, but only an inspector would be able to tell for sure. He wondered if there were old drawings or such tucked away in an attic there or something, he’d like to keep it a true renovation as much as possible. If the house was in good condition then most of what would need to be done would be cosmetic and modernization of existing fixtures. That would make it much easier and quicker. However, he was determined and if it took everything he had he would get that house livable!

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

After collecting several flashlights and a hammer Miller and Mercedes made their way into the attics and tried to get their bearings. There were basically two attics with a small connecting hallway in between them. As kids and teenagers the attics were fun and exciting to explore. But they were BIG. So finding what they had found fifteen years ago might not be that easy.

 

“Do you think anyone has been up here since we were here last?” Mercedes wondered as she brushed a cob web away from her face. “Ewww…”

 

Miller laughed and then sneezed, which brought a giggle from Mercedes. “That’ll teach you to laugh at me! I know there are light switches here somewhere, but where?” she grumbled as she ran into a box of some type. Miller reached out to catch her as she almost fell over it. He smiled as he heard a stifled curse in the blackness of the room.

 

“Actually, I think there are hanging fixtures’ and you have to pull the chains if I remember correctly,” he told her, banging his foot on something very solid. “Damn!”

 

A giggle was heard in the darkness followed by a crash as Mercedes bumped into something and dropped her flashlight. That was followed by an even larger crashing sound. “Crap! What the hell is this?”

 

Miller shone his light at the object and said “It looks to me like an old desk!” He caught sight of Mercedes sitting on the floor holding her knee and grimacing. He swept his light over the floor until he spotted Mercedes light which had either broken in its fall or had just turned off. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yes,” she said, getting to her feet and walking to where her flashlight lay. She picked it up and flicked the switch a couple of times before banging it against her hand. “Well, this one’s done. Let’s hope we can find a light soon or this is a wasted mission.”

 

Miller was directing his light upwards in an attempt to locate the light fixture. “I remember that it was not near the door. I suppose they tried to put it in the center of the room, but we’re going to get that fixed, let me tell you.” He thought he spotted the light and headed towards it, moving the light around so that he wouldn’t trip over anything else. Mercedes followed closely behind, her hand on his back.

 

Suddenly Miller stopped and Mercedes ran smack into him. He didn’t move. “What the hell Miller, give me a little warning!” 

 

“I saw something; something with glowing eyes, over there,” he said, waving his flashlight beam towards the left. Again something glowed, yellow in the dim light. “I think it’s a rat or something!”

 

“Oh for God’s sake Miller, this is an attic; there are probably creatures here who are scared of you! You’re out in the barn all the time and there are furry creatures there and you don’t act like a scared little girl!

 

“Well, I can’t see the damn thing. Who knows what it is?”

 

Mercedes walked to the creature in question slowly. She hoped to just spook it, however it didn’t move when she got closer. Finally, upon it and she let out a scream.

 

Miller almost fainted away with fright, torn between running for his life and saving his sister. “What…Mercedes are you alright?” Chivalry finally won out and he approached his sister, afraid of what he might find. 

 

Mercedes was standing stock still and finally turned to face him. “I’m afraid it’s too late to save it Miller. It’s dead.” 

 

“What?” he asked? “What the hell IS it?”

 

“Your coonskin cap from your Daniel Boone wanna be days,” she said, laughing hysterically then. “See, its little dead eyes were staring at you!”

 

Miller grabbed the cap from her and hit Mercedes with it. “Geez, Mercedes, that wasn’t funny at all.” As a cloud of dust puffed around them he started sneezing like crazy. 

 

“Hey, I’m the one who went to investigate you big sissy. Don’t hit me!” she giggled. “Where is a person’s camera when they need it? Your face, it was priceless!”

 

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon, let’s find the damn light fixture,” he grumbled, again shining the beam upward. “Look, there it is.”

 

“Sure you don’t want me to lead the way? Don’t want you getting scared again!” she told him as she made a move to grab the light. He held it up above his head, enjoying the sight of her stretching and jumping as she tried to reach it.

 

“Uh uh,” he said with a grin, smiling at the look of frustration on her face. He made his way to the light, Mercedes right behind him.

 

He found the chain on the light fixture and gave it a yank and dim, yellow light surrounded them. It wasn’t much and wouldn’t help them in the corners really, but they could drag the crates out to the middle of the floor under the light he guessed. He clicked the switch off on his flashlight and set it down and stood surveying the attic.

 

It was large, much larger than he remembered. He spotted another light fixture about 20 feet away and went to it and turned it on as well. That provided a bit more light for them to see by and he and Mercedes both made their way to the far corner where they believed the crates with the paintings were.

 

When they found them Miller commented, “You know, you might have had a treasure trove right here in your own house. For the gallery I mean.”

“Maybe. Actually I never really thought about all these paintings up here until now. I don’t remember any of them impressing me too much! But I think there is one here that will be familiar!”

 

“Um, yeah. Kind of different now though. And why will there be one that is familiar?” He pulled the hammer out of his pocket and began prying a corner of a large crate open. After he got it loose a bit he moved to the other end and did the same thing. “Help me pull, will you?”

 

Working together they got the lid off and lifted it down and peered into the crate. It was full of paintings, maybe a dozen or so of all sizes. There was another crate behind it and they decided to open it before they began to pull all of the paintings out of the first one. This crate was about 5 feet tall and 8 feet long, it was huge. The lid was on a bit tighter and they struggled to get it open. “Do you suppose we never opened this one?” he asked Mercedes.

 

“I really don’t remember. Maybe,” she said, grunting with exertion. This crate was bigger than the first one and the lid was ungainly, as well as heavy. “Probably not, it’s so big!”

 

After the lid was off they gazed into this crate and saw only 4 paintings, but they were all very large; they looked like family group portraits. Miller tried lifting the first one out of the crate but it was so large and awkward that he couldn’t lift it on his own. “C’mon, give me a hand.”

 

Mercedes nodded, and realization struck her that they had been in this crate before, that it held what she was looking for. They lifted and tugged and finally got the painting out. It was a family portrait. Six members of a family stood posed in the library of this house; father, mother, 3 boys and a girl. The era looked to be around the Civil War, judging by the clothes and hairstyles. Nope, not the one.

 

“Is that really a hoop skirt?” Miller asked, looking at the mother. Her skirt belled-out in a huge circle, its gray, satiny sheen looked beautiful in the painting.

 

“Probably. Look at the little girl; she’s barefoot! How funny,” Mercedes commented. “I wonder what the story about that is.”

 

“Who knows?” He looked at the back side of the painting and frowned. “I knew more that to expect names to be there, but it would be fun to know who these people were!”

 

Mercedes shrugged and tugged the painting to one side so they could lift the next one out. It was even bigger and showed another family of a father, mother and 10 kids; 6 boys and 4 girls. Mercedes observed the portrait and cocked her head to one side, trying to determine when it was done. Pre-Civil War for sure, but she didn’t know exactly when. They were a very sturdy looking group and unsmiling at that.

 

“Maybe in a family that size there just isn’t much to smile about,” Miller commented. He moved that one aside and reached for the next one. It had a very heavily ornate frame; it was going to be really heavy he could tell. “C’mon muscles, this one’s going to be a bitch to get out!”

 

He heard Mercedes ‘um hm’ of agreement and then they both grunted as they tried to lift it out of the crate. After several attempts Mercedes was ready to surrender. “Miller, it’s just too big, we can’t get it.”

 

“No, not like this. How about if we lay the crate on its side and try to slide it out?”

 

“Yeah, maybe. It’s going to be hard to turn over. Here goes!” she said on Miller’s count of 3. WHAM! The crate fell down with a thunderous smash.

 

“Well, it there were any small furry creatures hiding away up here they are sure to be gone now so you’re safe!” Mercedes laughed. Miller was sneezing again from all the dust it stirred up.

 

They slid the painting on top out of the crate first; it was a beautiful painting of what had to be Roberts Folly in its heyday. “Wow, it was beautiful!” she sighed.

 

“It’s still beautiful; kind of nice to see what it could look like again though. Set this aside for Bellamy. Oh hey, is there a signature on it?” he asked as he tried to tip it to get the light to shine on it so they could see. 

 

“Yes! Look Miller, it’s another one done by Clarke! 1822!”

 

“Bellamy will definitely want it. Okay, let’s get the big brute out of there. On my count of 3, slide!” he said.

 

Even on its side it was hard to move it, but eventually they got it out of there. It showed a family of seven; an adult male, an older woman and five children. The two boys were actually in their late teens probably, if not a bit older. The girls looked to be in their early teens, or at least the oldest one did. The clothing looked almost of the era from the revolution, especially the older woman’s. Her gown had a tightly cinched waist and a square décolletage. Her hair was either powdered or was just white. The father wore knee britches, although the son’s did not. Mercedes stared at it and was counting kids. She bent to look more closely at the portrait.

 

“Miller, where’s the flashlight?” she asked, trying to brush the grime of a couple of centuries off the front of the painting. He handed it to her and she shined it on to the face of the older girl, and then looked at Miller with tears in her eyes! This was the one she remembered.

 

“You’re right,” Miller agreed, immediately seeing what Mercedes saw. “It’s her – it’s Clarke!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is still trying to accept her life without Bellamy, but does she really need to? Hmm...
> 
>  
> 
> Hello lovely Perfect Timing family! Thank you, always for reading and your comments and kudos. You make it all worthwhile!
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: Mercedes and Miller make a huge discovery in the attic, but will it help Bellamy? AND... does Bellamy really visit Clarke in 1822? Stay tuned!


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Bellamy and Clarke are restless, thinking of one another. Meanwhile, Mercedes and Miller make a fantastic find in the attics.

Mercedes and Miller stared at the painting, both of them grinning broadly. “We have to go and get Bellamy,” Mercedes said, already heading for the door.

 

“Didn’t he go to bed already?” Miller asked as he followed her.

 

“Do you think he’ll really care if we wake him up for this?” 

 

“Not a chance,” he laughed. “Not a chance!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Clarke lay in her bed, thinking about Bellamy. She wanted to sleep, to see him in her dreams, but at the same time she was afraid he would not be there. It was torturous to think about him, his body next to hers and his kisses. Oh! His kisses; they had warmed and thrilled her in ways that were not proper for young ladies. She craved them, wanted to feel them and somehow wanted more. _But what did more mean?_

 

In two days she would have to go home to Robert’s Folly; she dreaded it. She loved her family and missed them; right now it would be good to see them, when she missed Bellamy so much. But they would all notice that she was not her usual self and that meant questions to answer; questions she would rather avoid.

 

The one good thing about going home was that she would be able to work on the painting of the grove again. She remembered how awful the land looked in 2017 with that thing they called a tennis court on it, where the grove used to be. Wrong, where it is now! Oh heaven’s, she did not know how to think of it. She was so confused; in some ways she still felt connected with that world, more so than her own.

 

_Clarke, this is futile. Let him and that world go!_

 

That thought brought tears to her eyes and soon they were cascading freely down her cheeks. Was life without Bellamy worth it? How did she go on, knowing that she was his and yet never knowing his laugh again, or his touch?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Bellamy,” Miller and Mercedes yelled together, pounding on his bedroom door. “Bellamy! Wake up and answer the door!”

 

Bellamy had been standing at the window, still contemplating the moonlight and still aching for Clarke. He debated for a moment whether or not to ignore Mercedes and Miller, but their knocking became louder and more persistent and he knew that they wouldn’t go away. He sighed and made his way to the door and opened it.

 

“WHAT?” he practically yelled.

 

Before he had a chance to know what was happening Mercedes grabbed his arm and took off down the hallway. “You have to see what we found! C’mon!”

 

“Mercedes, what is this? Can’t it wait?” Bellamy groaned, dragged along by Mercedes’ insistent pace.

 

“NO, it can’t wait. And when you see it you won’t want it to wait. Now MOVE it!” she answered, in her most drill-sergeant like voice, heading for the attic stairs.

 

Bellamy glanced at Miller, who was just behind them. He was grinning like the damn Cheshire cat. Whatever it was must be good Bellamy decided as they entered the musty smelling stairs to head up to the attic. It was dark up there; only two dim bulbs lit the place and Bellamy couldn’t imagine what they wanted him to see. No one ever went up there that he knew of. They had played there as kids, but from the urgency he didn’t think that this was about playing anything.

 

“Slow down!” Bellamy growled as he stumbled over a warped floor board. “For God’s sake, what is the hurry? You want me to break my neck or something?”

 

They were winding their way through old furniture and crates until they got to a couple that had their lids off. One was lying sideways on the floor with a few paintings lying against it. 

 

Miller grabbed up a flashlight and pointed it at the painting, shining the light on it so Bellamy could see it better. Bellamy knelt down and studied it and broke into a huge smile. “It’s Robert’s Folly!” he declared, a silly smile on his face.

 

“Look who painted it,” Miller said, his grin getting broader.

 

“Clarke?” Bellamy could hardly believe it. He touched the signature, painted two hundred years ago and traced it with one finger. “Clarke,” he confirmed and sadness suddenly swept over his face. It hurt to see it, and yet it brought her closer too.

 

“1822,” Mercedes said. Maybe she painted it so you could see what Robert’s Folly is supposed to look like!”

 

“Well, she didn’t know that I was planning on buying it, but it’s good to see it. It really is a beautiful place isn’t it. Look at all the detail too, incredible!”

 

“Yeah, well look at this painting,” Miller said, pointing to another leaning against another crate.

 

Bellamy stepped forward to gaze at the second painting. Miller lit it up with the beam from the flashlight and Bellamy saw a family portrait. But his eyes were immediately pulled to a girl in the center of the group. Golden blond hair piled up on top of her head, ocean blue eyes and a shy smile.

 

“Clarke!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

After going through the other crate of pictures and finding none that were done by Clarke the three musketeers, aka Miller, Mercedes and Bellamy sat on the dusty floor staring at the portrait of Clarke’s family. None of them said much; after all, what was there to say.

 

She did exist – had existed. Somehow that made it better and worse.

 

“I knew when I saw her that night in the kitchen that she was familiar. And then earlier I remembered us looking at these paintings years ago. She had to have been in one of them, I was convinced. I wonder why her family portrait is here instead of at Robert’s Folly.” Mercedes mused. 

 

“I wonder how old she was in that picture,” Miller asked. “She looks about 12 or 13 maybe. It’s so funny to see her dressed like that.”

 

Bellamy smiled and commented, “You should have seen the dress she had on when I first found her. It was beautiful; stained and scorched in places, but really lovely. Like her…”

 

“C’mon Bellamy, don’t go getting all sappy on us,” Mercedes said. “That’s not going to help with anything. We have to keep our heads clear to figure this all out!”

 

“Mercedes, just how in the hell do you think we can ‘figure this all out’ for God’s sake? You think there is some easy solution; we can just jump into the magic time machine and go and get her?” Bellamy lashed out, at Mercedes and Miller and himself, derision and despair painting his words. He jumped to his feet and paced for a moment before punching the lid of one of the crates, causing it to break apart. He looked down at his bleeding hand and said, “Well we can’t. There is no magic machine, or mirror, no wishing well, no ANYTHING!”

 

Mercedes got to her feet and looked around for something to wipe the blood off of his hand with. She looked at it and frowned; his knuckles were red and swollen as well as bleeding. “Miller, go and get me a wash cloth! Hurry.”

 

Miller headed out the door and down the stairs quickly. Mercedes examined Bellamy’s fingers, moving them about while he stood there wordlessly. “Do you think anything is broken?”

 

He made a fist and flexed it a couple of times. “No, it’s okay. What an idiot thing to do.”

 

“Well, I’ll agree with that. But no real harm done. Bellamy, there’s a way, there has to be.” She held his hand for a moment and gazed into his troubled eyes.

 

“Mercedes, why are you being so helpful about all this? I mean, for years you’ve been chasing around after me to the point where I thought I’d have to stay away. And now, well, now you’re trying to help me find Clarke, get her back. I don’t understand.”

 

She took a deep breath and thought about what she wanted to say for a moment. Everything he said was true, but it had all changed. Even before she had seen him with Clarke she had known that it wasn’t right with them. She let out the breath that she had been holding and told him, “I guess for years I had been chasing this dream, of you and I because we were perfect together Bellamy. What finally occurred to me is that we ARE perfect together, as friends. There is no chemistry between us, I mean romantically speaking. I love you, I always will Bellamy but not as a mate. And then Clarke came along and for the first time, the very first time I saw you come alive and I knew that she was the one for you. Now,” Mercedes took a deep breath and looked into his eyes and finished, “now we have to find a way to get her back here.”

 

Bellamy nodded as they heard the clatter of Miller hurrying up the stairs. Both of them had forgotten about his hand but now Bellamy realized it was starting to throb. He smiled wryly as he looked at it and said, “That was pretty stupid, huh?”

 

Miller grinned and said, “Nah, we’ll need some kindling for the fireplaces this winter anyway.” He clapped Bellamy on the back and watched as Mercedes wiped the blood off of Bellamy’s hand. “Do you think he’s going to need stitches?”

 

“Shine the flashlight on it, will you? I need to see it better.”

 

Bellamy stood there patiently as Mercedes examined his hand and declared that she didn’t think it needed any stitches, but that they needed to get some antibiotic ointment on it and some ‘boo-aids’, as they had called band-aids when they were kids.

 

Bellamy cast one last look as the paintings and said, “You know that those are coming with me to Robert’s Folly, right?” 

 

“Well now, it’s time to negotiate Bellamy! What’s it worth to ya?” Miller smirked as they headed downstairs.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

By 11:00 pm Clarke was still tossing and turning in her bed. The quiet of the night which she had always loved now seemed to roar at her with its emptiness. It surrounded her, inundated her senses and made slumber impossible. She threw the covers off of her and climbed out the bed and wandered around the room, stopping to pick up an item in the darkness only to set it down again.

 

The house was completely silent below her and she realized everyone must be in bed. An idea came to her; a wicked one, but she could not help herself. She found her robe and slid it on, tying it securely around her waist intending to head downstairs and out the doors that lead from the dining room to the lawn in back of the house. Her bare feet made little noise on the stairs as she crept down them; she could not hear or see anyone stirring about. 

 

Again the silence embraced her and she reveled in it this time. She inhaled the fresh breeze that blew lightly though the trees, stirring the grasses and making them shimmer in the moon lit night. She could smell the summer roses and honeysuckle, lilacs and verbena in the garden and the smell comforted her. The grass felt cool and slightly damp to her feet and she dug her toes into it, smiling as it tickled them.

 

From the stables she could hear the occasional whinny of the horses and as they settled for the night and from one of the fields she could also hear the soft lows of the cattle. She could catch glimpses of the lake glistening in the distance and was tempted to walk to it and let the cool water lap over her feet but she decided against it; it was too far to walk this late of an evening. Instead she sat down under an oak tree and pressed her back against the rough bark and sighed.

 

The night was incredibly beautiful. The moon was near full and all around her lightning bugs were glowing as they buzzed about busily on the soft breeze. She could hear crickets and other night creatures talking amongst themselves in their own special language and wondered what they might be saying. These were the sorts of sounds she enjoyed hearing. 

 

If she had the chance, if there were a possibility to returning to 2017, would she want to do it she wondered? This peace that she enjoyed at this moment, would she find it there amidst all the people and the noise? Practically everything there made some sort of sound; it was like the people of that time needed the sounds to be assured that everything worked, was alright. Even at night in the house there was noise; sounds she could not identify. It was like the people or the house never truly slept.

 

And the multitudes of people she saw in the city. Gracious, where did they all come from? There were more people at the ‘mall’ than she had ever seen in all her life before. Would she want that? To live like that?

 

Yet she knew the answer. If she could be with Bellamy, she would live anywhere, anytime.

 

She leaned her head back against the trunk of the tree and wrapped her arms around herself, wishing with all her heart that Bellamy was with her, in this peaceful night. A few stray tears trickled down her cheeks but she ignored them, caught up in the fantasy that he was with her.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

After Bellamy washed his hand Mercedes dabbed it with antibiotic ointment and applied the boo-aids. He watched her as she busily worked over his hand and mentally shrugged; it could have been worse. She tut-tutted as she applied the last band-aid and pronounced him done.

 

“I want to be around tomorrow when you explain this to Mrs. Burton,” she laughed.

 

“I’m sure you will be,” he smiled in return as he kissed her forehead. She wrapped her arms around him for a hug and wished him goodnight and then headed for her bedroom.

 

Bellamy undressed and pulled on a pair of silk pajama bottoms and again his gaze was drawn to the window. It was 11o’clock and the moon had shifted higher into the night sky but was still visible overhead, illuminating the trees and lawn stretched out before him. He admired the lightning bugs that were flitting about on the breeze, remembering when they were kids how they would chase them and try to capture them. They would put them into jars with holes poked in the lids and admire how they glowed. Usually, Mercedes would set them all free because she hated to see them die in the jars.

 

As he stared at an old oak tree out past the stables he thought he saw something move. At first he thought it might be just a creature of the night but he realized it was too big for that. He wondered what it could be and finally decided it was just a trick of the moon light reflecting off of the trunk of the tree. 

 

He watched for a few more minutes and as he stared she saw blonde hair glowing in the moonlight. He took off at a run down the stairs and flew out the dining room doors. It was her, Clarke and she was sitting silently, her back against the tree. He approached quietly, afraid if he startled her she would vanish. 

 

He looked around him curiously and realized that it wasn't the yard he knew; the gardens were different and the trees not nearly as big.

He was there, in 1822.

 

He saw the tears on her cheeks and reached down and gently brushed they off of her and she let out a startled cry, looking up to see Bellamy there. She jumped to her feet and he pulled her into his arms, his mouth seeking hers desperately. She tasted of tea and honey and salt from her tears, and he licked at her lips before crushing his mouth more firmly against hers. He felt her trembling in his arms and held her even tighter. 

 

“Bellamy, you're really here,” she whispered, gulping in a breath and holding him tightly. 

 

“I am, love. I've found you and I'm not letting you go. Never, Clarke. I can't live without you, I just can't.” 

 

Her knees nearly buckled because of the heady kisses and her need for him. She could feel his heart hammering in his chest against her own and she pulled in a deep breath trying frantically to catch her breath. She leaned against him as her arms wound around his neck, fingers teasing through the soft curls of his hair.

 

He sat down and pulled her onto his lap and began the breathless kissing again until both of them felt dizzy. 

 

“Are you staying here?” she queried.”You are here, in 1822.”

 

“I realized that when I came outside. The gardens are different. I don't care if I stay here or you come with me, Clarke, I just can't lose you again.”

 

“I love you, Clarke, you are mine, always, always...,” he whispered, holding her tightly. 

And then, as quick as he'd found her he found himself back in his own time, and he let out a desperate sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So was it real or not? Hmm, poor Bellamy and Clarke think they know, but do you lovely readers? Let me know what you think because as always I love your comments and the kudos make me feel ever more inspired. I am working on another multi-chapter piece but won't publish it until it's done. Eleven chapters completed as of right now. I'll post a preview of it when we finish this story. Love you all so much.
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: A serious connection for the two of them which just might be the catalyst for their future. Bellamy is buying Roberts Folly and can't control his excitement.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke both are heart sick over their encounter in the garden. They both try to process it the best they can. But two nights later, a new encounter brings joy that they embraced. What could that be?

It hurt so much, so damn much. Eventually he picked himself up and went back inside, to his lonely bed and prayed he'd find her in it again, but it was as empty as his heart was just then. 

 

Sleep didn't come easily that night for either of them.

 

When Clarke realized that Bellamy was gone she let out a painful cry. He had been there, he had. Why were the fates or God or whoever playing such cruel tricks upon them? Each time they felt one anothers presence it felt worse, like they were farther apart than before. She wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. How was she supposed to live this life, without him if she constantly felt him with her? 

 

She finally made her way back to her bed chamber, thankful that no one had noticed her absence because she knew she could never explain it because she couldn't explain to it herself. As she slid into the chilled bed clothes and pulled them tightly around her she prayed she would dream of him, of his touch, his kisses.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Clarke woke up with the sun and was already moving about when Molly brought her tea tray in. Clarke was standing at the window looking out at gray skies and noticed a brisk breeze stirring the trees. After she had come back to bed, she had fallen asleep eventually and had not dreamt of Bellamy. The thought saddened her, but maybe it was for the best. She didn't know how to go on without him but to keep seeing him literally broke her heart.

 

“Good mornin’, Miss,” Molly said as she set the tray down on the table. 

 

“Good morning, Molly. It seems a bit cloudy today I believe. We may be in for another storm.”

 

“Perhaps, Miss. Would you like me ta bring ye some warm water so ye can wash? She watched as Clarke nodded and curtsied before leaving the room.

 

Clarke thought longingly of the shower, in that other time, the other place. How wonderful it had felt to stand beneath it and revel in the warm streaming water. She was not sure if that was the best part or the bottles of potions to wash with. If things were noisier in 2017, they certainly smelled better. Oh, and toothpaste, how wonderful that was, to have her mouth feel so clean.

 

She was at the wardrobe deciding what she would wear this day when Molly came back and insisted, “Miss, just tell me what ya would like and I’ll get it ready for you. You shouldna be worrying about it yerself!” She hurriedly sat the water down and went to the wardrobe to take over.

 

Clarke smiled and said, “Oh, it tis no problem, Molly. I am just deciding what to wear today.”

 

“Mrs. Burgess says it likely will be warm and sticky, what with the clouds and all. How about the flowered muslin with the white lace overlay? T’will be nice and cool for ya!”

 

“Yes, that sounds good. Thank you, Molly.”

 

Molly nodded and bowed her head before leaving the room. “I will be back in a bit to help you dress Miss.”

 

Clarke smiled in acknowledgment and went to pour a cup of tea before washing up. She sat down on the brocaded chair and contemplated the day. She thought again about her idea to leave notes in some of the library books here for Bellamy, Miller and Mercedes to find. It seemed an unlikely plan at best, hoping that those books would survive for nearly 200 years. Still, that idea bore some thought so she chose not to give it up completely for now; she still hoped they would find the painting of the maple grove.

 

Her aunt wanted her to paint a mural in the dining room, however that really should be done with oil paints and she had none with her. She would beg her aunt’s forgiveness and ask to be allowed to return in a fortnight with the necessary paints. That would give her an excuse to come back to the house. She knew that it was a foolish proposition; she would not find Bellamy here then, as he was not here now. But she could cherish the feeling of being closer to him that way. Her plan decided, she set about washing and dressing for the coming day.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bellamy tossed in an uneasy slumber and woke early, opening one eye to peer at the clock on the bedside table. It showed that it was only 7:02 am and he had only been a sleep for a few hours. He shut his eye and rolled over to try to go back to sleep, but slumber just would not come. Instead, his mind was awash of the million things he needed to accomplish today. With a groan he rolled out of bed and headed for the shower.

 

He had been there, he had. He had held her in his arms until suddenly she was gone. It tore him to pieces. Damn the universe for keeping them apart, for making his heartache tear his guts apart with the need to have her with him, wherever or whenever.

 

He turned the shower head to a massage setting and let the stinging spray pummel him awake but even that failed to energize him. His enthusiasm flagging, he got dressed and prepared to head downstairs to find some coffee. As soon as he closed the bedroom door though his footsteps took him in another direction; straight to the attic.

 

He dragged the painting of Clarke and her family near a window so the he might see it better. Her young and beautiful face stared back at him and for a moment he felt soothed and almost happy. Soon reality settled over him like a fierce gray cloud and he scowled at the picture; it only represented what he couldn’t have. And Bellamy was used to getting what he wanted, but no amount of money or Blake charm could bring her back to him. 

 

Mercedes found him there, a half hour later, tell-tale tears showing in the corners of his brown eyes that looked almost like burnished amber in the morning light. She sat down next to him on the dusty floor and reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly, but not saying a word. For 15 minutes they sat together, silently contemplating the painting in the early morning light.

 

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Mercedes said as she stared at the painting. “Her whole family was quite handsome actually.”

 

“Yes, they are – were,” he amended. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, wishing with all his might for a solution to this. He didn’t understand why providence or God or whoever/whatever controlled the universe would bring her to him only to separate them forever. It made no sense, not any of it.

 

For a moment he contemplated telling her about last night but before he could find the words to try to explain how sure he was of it, in the distance they heard the phone ring, but neither of them paid much attention to it, lost in their own thoughts. Soon there was a loud knocking on the door and Miller said, “Bellamy, it’s Claire Carlisle for you, about Robert’s Folly!”

 

In an instant Bellamy catapulted to his feet and was on his way down to the study where he could take the call. He picked up the receiver, half breathless. “Hello, Ms. Carlisle? This is Bellamy Blake. Thank you for returning my call.”

 

“Yes Mr. Blake! The message said you are interested in purchasing Robert’s Folly. Is this correct?”

 

The voice on the other end of the phone was soft and refined. Bellamy didn’t think he had ever met Claire Carlisle, but she sounded very helpful. This would certainly put that theory to the test. “Yes, I do. I need to know who that property belongs to and if they are willing to sell.”

 

“I can tell you that the property is now owned by the county; it took over conservator-ship after the last Griffin died. I’m fairly sure the county would be willing to sell it, but you do understand there will be many things to consider in this purchase? First off, I’m sure there are many years of unpaid taxes on the property; also, the house may not even be up to code. They will need to be an inspection of the property and a title search done before we can even begin a purchase agreement.”

 

“Alright, get it started. Expedite it if possible. And Ms. Carlisle, money in never to be an issue here! Do I make myself clear on that?”

 

Claire Carlisle swallowed and was glad she was sitting down. Business like this didn’t come along too often in the sleepy little area and she could already feel a rush of excitement. “Certainly Mr. Blake. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible with information!”

 

“Make that sooner Ms. Carlisle. As I said, expedite!”

 

“As you wish. I’ll speak with you soon!”

 

Bellamy heard the line go dead and sighed. At least it was all started. Now he would see how quickly money could accomplish a miracle.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

By the end of the next day Bellamy had most of his answers; the county was willing to sell the property, after he paid for the back taxes, which were massive, but he was willing to pay anything. However, he was no fool so he called his tax attorneys to get busy on negotiations; he felt confident that they would work it all out. The actual price of the property would depend on the inspection of property and land assessment. He asked Claire to get them there yesterday.

 

On her end of the line she only shrugged; she didn’t understand what the impetus was, but moneys talks, or so they say and she got inspectors and assessors scheduled out there first thing in the morning. 

 

Bellamy was already on the phone with several contractors, ready to explore the property and start figuring estimates to make the updates and necessary changes. He knew he wanted new bathrooms and a kitchen; the rest would all depend on how much work was actually necessary.

 

All in all, it was falling into place he thought with a satisfied grin. He finished making some notes on his laptop and shut it down and leaned back in the chair, stretching. He was tired; it was time for a hot shower and bed. He headed into the bathroom, trailing clothes as he went; he’d worry about them later.

 

Fifteen minutes later he had dressed in some pajama bottoms and crawled into bed, a huge yawn escaping as he lay back against the pillow. As his eyes fluttered shut his last thought was of Clarke and Roberts Folly. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Clarke woke up in her bed, sitting straight up as she realized she wasn’t alone. Bellamy was right beside her, lying on his back with an arm tossed carelessly above him on the pillow. She stared for a moment, not believing what she was seeing.

 

_Clarke, you are dreaming of course!_

 

She told herself that, more than once but it seemed so real. She could feel the warmth of his body and she smiled at the soft snores that escaped his sleep-softened mouth. She couldn’t help herself when she leant down and gently placed her lips against his. His lips felt warm and pliant and she pressed a bit harder, unsure of exactly how to do this. 

 

She felt him stir a bit and wrap his arms around her. He sighed her name, his lips opening to drink her in. His tongue lightly traced the outline of her lips, bidding for entrance in the warmth of her mouth and opened fully for him, returning his kiss passionately. 

 

“Clarke…Clarke…” His words were a caress, spoken against the silken skin of her neck. “Um, God you taste sweet, so sweet my Clarke.”

 

“Bellamy, is this real? It can’t be, can’t be…”

 

Bellamy untied the satiny ribbons that held her nightgown together, placing small kisses on the exposed skin as he went. Finally he had worked it completely off of her shoulders and he slid it down her body before tossing it aside. He then started working at the drawstring that held her drawers up.

 

Clarke knew she should feel embarrassed, but this was a dream so what did it matter? She raised her arms above her head and pushed her hips upwards to meet the strong hands that were caressing her. She felt wanton and desirable; she wanted more, had to have more contact.

 

After Bellamy scooted her drawers down around her ankles she kicked them off. She thrilled to the feel of Bellamy’s lips as he slid his mouth upwards to capture hers again in a molten kiss. She felt as if she was drowning and surrendered to it completely. 

 

Bellamy’s tongue plundered her sweet mouth, tormenting her with his heat and passion. Clarke felt his hands slide down her body to her breasts and she shivered as his fingertips stroked her taut nipples, eliciting a small cry of desire from her.

 

His mouth placed hot, wet kisses on her neck and quickly found the sensitive skin covering her rapidly beating pulse. His tongue slid over it, lapping at it gently and then he nibbled there and listened to her breathy moans as she arched her body and tried to reach her hand farther down his body. He pulled his mouth away suddenly and got rid of his pajama bottoms, almost gritting his teeth as he felt her reach for him, tentatively touching his erection.

 

“You are beautiful Clarke, so lovely. Like a flower, waiting to blossom. Let me awaken you, Clarke; let my mouth and body awaken yours.”

 

“Yes Bellamy, yes!” she cried, almost sobbing with desire. She felt his heated mouth capture an aching nipple and tug lightly on it. She shuddered and moaned, her head twisting from side to side. She felt as if she was on a precipice, except she didn’t know what comes next.

 

Her breasts were so perfect, so firm and they begged him to touch them more, taste her sweetness and Bellamy could do nothing less than to comply. His tongue licked hotly over the flesh that was covered with goosebumps and he heard her hitched moan when he started licking at the sensitive skin under the swell of them. He let out a breath as she pulled his head closer to her and then swept his tongue back up to capture a swollen nipple.

 

Bellamy teased first one aroused nipple then loved the other until Clarke could hardly breathe. She found herself holding her breath and then releasing it in a rush, panting almost. His mouth slid down and his tongue dipped into her belly button and rimmed it while she tried to stay still. She never knew that anyone would do something like this and she sighed his name with pleasure. When she felt his mouth slide down her belly and dip into the place between her thighs she gulped in huge breaths, feeling as if she was losing her mind. 

 

There, my God, it was happening again! She was falling over the edge; her mind and body spinning out of control. Goose bumps covered her body and she shivered with delight. 

 

_My God, what was he doing to her? This could not be decent, feeling like this._

 

She reached for his shoulders, caressing and stroking any place that she could reach. Her fingers thrilled to the touch of his hard body, his muscles covered with a fine sheen of sweat. She tangled her fingers in his soft curls, tugging lightly as her body shook from her orgasm. She never wanted him to stop this madness and yet when she tried to tell him only keening cries escaped her throat.

 

Bellamy loved the taste of her; he lightly traced his tongue over the tight little nub that guarded the entrance to her womanhood. He was rewarded as her sweet juices continues to flow from her, revealing her passion. He felt her body shudder as she came and he moved his mouth down a bit so that she wouldn’t be so sensitive. He nibbled on her soft thighs and then slid a finger into her, probing gently. He could feel the resistive barrier hidden deep inside her and knew that she was still a virgin. He almost groaned; he didn’t want to have to hurt her.

 

He moved his finger in and out of her and then added a second finger, to help her get used to the feeling of something inside her body. She responded by pushing her hips upwards to meet the thrusts of his fingers. He felt her squeeze his fingers and knew that she was enjoying what he was doing. His mouth kissed his way back up to her waiting mouth and took her lips in a burning kiss which left her whimpering with need.

 

“Clarke, I don’t want to hurt you baby, but what comes next probably will. Do you want me to go on?” He had to tell her, he didn’t have any idea how much she knew about what was going to happen next.

 

“Yes, Bellamy, yes. I know it can be painful, but please don’t stop this, please…” Her voice trailed off as more shivers overtook her.

 

Bellamy spread her thighs apart a little more and settled between them. He gently rubbed himself against her, spreading her juices around to cover him before he eased the tip of his manhood inside her. She caught her breath as she felt the hardness enter her.

 

_This cannot possibly fit inside me. It is too large. Oh my…_

 

Bellamy kissed her and let a hand travel down to caress a hardened nipple. He teased it lightly with his fingers, pulling gently on it and felt her relax a bit. He pushed himself a bit further inside her willing body until he felt the last bit of resistance against him. He kissed her ear before softly murmuring, “I’m sorry love, I’m sorry…” He pushed harder and felt her skin tear away and he was in her, fully, as far as he could be. He stopped for a moment to give her time to adjust to him.

 

Her breath was coming in short gasps. She had felt a quick burning sting as he penetrated her fully but it was quickly fading; now she only wanted more and she bucked her hips up against him, letting him know that she wanted more. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she felt him moving inside her body. It was the most wonderful feeling she had ever had.

 

It was a miracle to her that all of him was inside her body. She knew nothing about male anatomy, in humans anyway but he seemed so large and yet he filled her so deliciously. He adjusted his angle before setting a steady rhythm and captured her lips again, as they each swallowed the others moans. He took her hands in his, entwining their fingers as their bodies moved as one, their breaths were shared and Bellamy held her to him, never wanting to let her go.

 

Together they moved, as if in a beautifully orchestrated dance. She met his thrusts and soon she felt the strange dizzying feeling come over her again and this time she welcomed it, rushing headlong into the chasm of pleasure. Bellamy felt her come again around him and let himself go. All he felt was the joy of being united with her, the woman he loved.

 

He finally moved off of her as each one caught their breath; she lay against him, spent and happy. Bellamy held her tightly; he would never let her go again.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Clarke woke up at dawn and realized she was naked. She immediately blushed, from her head to the tips of her toes. She looked at the bed beside her and saw that it was empty. Immediate grief washed over her; it was all a dream. A vivid dream, but still only a dream.

 

She rose from the bed and slipped her night things back on and put her robe on as well. She called for Molly and soon heard her knock on the door.

 

“G’morning miss! Can I get ya some tea?”

 

“Good morning Molly. Yes, please some tea would be lovely and perhaps a scone if cook has any ready.”

 

“Sure thing miss. I’ll be right back with it. Oh, I see you’ve got yer monthly visitor. Shall I bring ya some cloths?”

 

“What?” Clarke asked, confused. Then she looked at the bright red blood spots on the bed and realized that she was a bit sore between her legs. 

 

_It hadn’t been a dream…so where was Bellamy?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, what now? They are both positive it happened because there is proof of the encounter, but each thinks the other is still with them. 
> 
>  
> 
> I've had a couple new readers leave comments this week which thrills me! Thank you for joining the Perfect Timing family. Your thoughts, comments and kudo's are always so welcome and questions too. As much as I can reveal, or tease about, lol.
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: Both Bellamy and Clarke set about trying to find the other; but are they still there? Mrs. Burton gets more annoyed and vows to find out what is going on, while Mercedes seeks to divert her. Not much chance of that happening! ;)


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Burton, in bloodhound mode informs Mercedes that she knows something is going on with the 3 of them and that she isn't fooled and is going to find out what it is. Meanwhile, Bellamy's back and shoulders are hurting and he is shocked when he finds out why. Each of them look for the other in their own time lines.

Bellamy awoke slowly, a smile on his face. He stretched and rolled over to pull Clarke to him. His eyes flew open in shock when he realized she wasn’t there, only an empty bed.

 

A dream, it had only been a dream he realized. A cruel dream that would torture him endlessly. NO, it had been real; he had held her and made love to her, he knew that he had.

 

Maybe she was already up and embarrassed about it all. She had been a virgin and so it was possible that she was embarrassed, yes that was it he told himself. Maybe she was in the bathroom, taking a bath or something. He listened for sounds of water splashing but heard nothing.

 

He got out of bed and realized that he was naked so sometime during the night he had discarded his pajama bottoms but he couldn’t find them anywhere in the bed. Did he put them on at all last night he wondered? He did remember doing it and he also remembered kicking them off right before he made love to Clarke. However, even yanking all the covers off of the bed did not yield them. Scratching his head, he went to the bathroom door and knocked, waiting to see if Clarke would answer. When there was no answer he opened the door and found no traces of her in there. Maybe she was already downstairs? He didn’t know but he decided to take a shower because his body was a bit sore, especially his shoulders. He looked into the mirror and noticed the deep scratches that Clarke had left on his back and he laughed to himself; they hurt like hell but they were absolutely worth the pain. 

 

Now where in the world was Clarke? He hurried through his morning shower and dressed in record time, excited to go and find her.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Panic swung wildly through Clarke’s head as she saw the blood spots on the bed. It had been real, not a dream. But she was in 1822 so did that mean that Bellamy was here now? How on earth would she explain him to her family? And the blood spots! Dear Lord, they really had done, well they had anticipated the marriage bed. How would she explain that? It was NOT done in these times. Even if they were to be married she would be labeled a wanton and spurned by society. Grandmother would be apoplectic about it.

 

She decided that wherever Bellamy was it would be better to let them all think that she had started her monthly. She had just had it before she visited 2017 but no one here at her aunt’s house knew that, so she should be safe from raised eyebrows. Yes, it might be okay but she had to find him if he was here. When Molly came back she was stripping the bed of its covers in an attempt to not have to look at it any further. It should be shameful to her but instead it only brought about memories of she and Bellamy doing those things; things which she should be ashamed of and yet she was not.

 

A knock on the bedroom door caught her unawares and she suddenly stopped wrestling with the bed clothes and bid Molly to enter. 

 

“Here ye are miss, tea, a scone and some fresh honey.” Molly sat the tray down on the table by the window and then handed Clarke a handful of rags that she had tucked under her arm. “Fer yer monthly miss. An’ I got some water heating for ye to take a bath, I think that mayhaps be soothing to ye. Ye gots sometime before the family gathers for breakfast.” Molly turned to the bed to finish pulling the covers off of it. “Miss, twas no reason for ye to be yanking these bed clothes off by yerself. Goodness, I’ll take care of it. Now, you just enjoy yer tea!”

 

Caught in the act, Clarke hung her head and then sat down, waiting for Molly to finish her task. She absentmindedly stirred cream into her tea and buttered her scone but neither were appealing to her. “Molly, have we any visitors here today?”

 

“Visitors? No miss, none that I’ve seen anyways,” Molly answered, casting a look at Clarke, who looked pale and shaken and definitely not hungry. 

 

Just then Jed and two chambermaids entered the room after a brief knock. Jed sat the brass tub on the floor in front of the fireplace and waited while the warm water was dumped in. “Jed, would ye stir up the fire for Miss Clarke please?” Molly asked, still disturbed by how pale she looked.

 

Jed nodded and sat about getting the fire going for Clarke. When he had finished he said, “There ye are miss. Anythin’ else I can do fer ye?”

 

Clarke shook her head no and thanked him. He gave her a slight bow and left the room. The two maids were back with more buckets of warm water and Molly poured some fragrant oil into it for Clarke and pulled the screen around it so that the warmth of the fire would be captured by it.

 

“Miss, can I help ye?” Molly asked, as Clarke sat quietly, not eating or drinking. 

 

“No Molly, that will be all. I’ll call you when I’m finished.”

 

“Uh, what would ye like to wear today Miss Clarke? I might as well get it out now so ye can dress when yer done.”

 

“Anything Molly. Anything at all will do…”

 

Molly raised an eyebrow in surprise as she went to the trunks to find something for Clarke to wear. “How about the soft green gown with the dark green ribbons? Will that be fine Miss?” 

 

“Yes Molly that will be fine thank you.” She still sat motionless Molly realized as she pulled out undergarments and slippers for her to wear with the gown. Finally all was done and she left the room, shaking her head.

 

“Goodness, some women get vera strange during their monthlies,” she said to no one in particular. “Vera strange indeed!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

As Bellamy hurried through his shower he whistled to himself, of all things a Hall and Oates song, _Everything Your Heart Desires_. He wasn’t a huge Hall and Oates fan but he did like this song, but this morning he might feel that way about anything. Ten minutes later, hair washed, teeth brushed, he got dressed and headed downstairs. He had took one more look at his shoulders in the mirror as he pulled his tee shirt on and grinned to himself like an idiot. He wanted to shout out loud that Clarke was his, but only clamped his mouth shut and practically ran down the stairs.

 

He headed immediately to the kitchen and found Mrs. Burton, beating eggs in a large bowl. He looked around in puzzled surprise and said, “Have you seen Clarke?”

 

Mrs. Burton dropped the whisk into the bowl and it made a loud clatter as it hit the side of the bowl. She stared at Bellamy in confusion and said, “Not since last week when she left to go to the mall with you.”

 

Bellamy blinked once, twice and took in what she had just said. Where on earth could she be? He turned and abruptly left the room, heading outside towards the stables. 

 

Mrs. Burton called after him, “Mr. Bellamy, I’m making omelets for breakfast. What do you want in yours?” but he didn’t answer her. Something was certainly going on and she was going to get to the bottom of it or else those three were going to see her get really angry. She’d had enough of all this strange behavior and secrets. Ayup, she had definitely had enough!

 

Bellamy found Mercedes in the stables and rushed over to her as she saddled Copper Penny in preparation for a ride. She looked up at Bellamy and grinned as she said, “Hey Bellamy, ready for a ride? Dakota Dream is restless this morning, probably ready for a good long run!”

 

Bellamy stared at her and said, “Mercedes, have you seen Clarke? I mean, this morning?”

 

“What are you talking about Bellamy? She’s gone, you know that!” Mercedes eyes swept Bellamy with concern; he was agitated, something was not right here.

 

“She was here Mercedes. She WAS here, last night, this morning. I was with her!”

 

Mercedes walked over to where he stood and touched his shoulder in sympathy. She noticed he flinched away from her hand before he repeated, “She was here. Really…”

 

“Bellamy, I uh, I haven’t seen her. Are you sure you didn’t just have a dream about her? A really vivid dream?” Concern was written all over her face; she was really worried about him.

 

When her fingers had touched his shoulder he had pulled away because it hurt him; the scratches were deep and it just reiterated to him that it had been real. Dreams don’t put scratches on you he told himself. Still, he couldn’t actually show them to Mercedes could he?

 

Could he? Should he?

 

No, he couldn’t.

 

Whatever had happened, Clarke apparently was not here now, which means that she had now been here twice and disappeared, which broke his heart and gave him hope all at once.

 

It never occurred to him that maybe he had been there again…

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Clarke took her bath, and she admitted that the warm water felt very good. Her body was sore, in places she had never been sore before and certainly places she could not ask anyone about. As she leaned back against the cool metal tub her mind drifted back to she and Bellamy and she remembered the things he had done to her, things that they had done together. 

 

She should be ashamed she knew and yet she was not. They seemed perfectly right, the things they had shared and more than that they were acts of love. Yes, she admitted it love. She loved him and she knew that he loved her as well. So how on earth did they find one another again, separated by almost 200 years? There must be a way because last night was real and she had the stained sheets to prove it.

 

She became chilled, even with the fire blazing merrily so she finished her ablutions and hurriedly got out and dried herself. She rang for Molly to come and help her dress and as she did, she accidentally kicked one of her shoes underneath the bed. When she bent to retrieve it her fingers felt something silky and she pulled it out from under the bed. What she pulled out was Bellamy’s pajama bottoms, the cool silk feeling slippery in her fingers. She held them up to her face and inhaled deeply and was rewarded by the potent scent of Bellamy, her Bellamy. Tears streaked down her face as she held them close to her, thrilled to have them with her. 

 

Suddenly she realized that Molly would be here any moment and she had to find a place to hide them lest they be discovered and she had to explain them. And how on earth would she even do that she wondered? She could not. She ran to the case of art supplies that her grandmother had brought her and quickly placed them inside, after one more quick smell. They would not smell like Bellamy later she realized, but rather like her paints and pastels, but it could not be helped; that was the only place they could possibly escape detection. Just as she finished fastening the case Molly knocked and entered the room. 

 

When she saw Clarke her first thought was how much better she looked. Poor dear, these monthlies can be rough what with the cramping and all. The quick bath was just the thing for the lass. Her eyes were brighter now and her face actually had some color in it. 

 

“Ah Miss, you look much better now! Let’s get ye dressed because cook almost has breakfast ready. Yer aunt is already downstairs, awaiting ye and yer cousin Bree.”

 

Clarke nodded and smiled, ready to be dressed. Her mind was on the pajama bottoms that were hidden away in her art supply case. They were just one more thing that had made Bellamy’s visit to her tangible. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bellamy sat through breakfast, barely touching the delicious omelet and fresh banana muffins that Mrs. Burton had made. As she removed his almost full plate she grimaced and started to say something but Miller caught her eye and shook his head no. She frowned at him and let it go for now and didn’t say another word as she collected the rest of the dishes and took them to the kitchen.

 

At the sink she scraped a perfectly good omelet into the sink so she could run the disposal and muttered, “Those three – they’re all in it together! And what is going on with Miss Clarke and do I need to be concerned?” she mumbled to herself.

 

Just then Mercedes walked into the kitchen, carrying a half empty pitcher of orange juice and set it into the refrigerator. “Mrs. Burton, have you spoken with Horace yet? About coming to dinner I mean.”

 

“Ayup. He’s coming tonight in fact. I’m fixin’ a boiled dinner, his favorite. Is anyone going to eat it?” she asked casting a suspicious eye on Mercedes.

 

Mercedes realized that she was really pissed; they would have to tread lightly with her. “Yes, I’m sure we’ll all enjoy it. After all, no one makes it as good as you Mrs. B!” she declared in an attempt to smooth things over with the housekeeper.

 

“Um hm. Well, see to it that you all do. I’d hate to waste it or the apple tart I’m making for dessert either!”

 

“Oh, apple tarts? Yummy! You are the best!” Mercedes said, heading out the kitchen door. Mrs. Burton watched her go grimly. Mrs. Burton's next words stopped her in her tracks.

 

“I ain’t no sheep missy that you can pull the wool over my eyes,” she said grimly. Something is going on around here, something involving Miss Clarke and I aim to find out what it is. You three haven't done anything wrong have you because you all three look like canaries that swallowed a bird. The truth will come out Mercedes.”

 

Mercedes fixed her with a hopefully innocent look, then blinked rapidly as she looked away. “Heaven's NO, of course not. We all just miss her so much and Bellamy is sad because he really cared about her.” She nodded and then left the kitchen in a rush, her heart pounding along with her head. This was a problem, a really big problem. She had to talk to the boys.

 

Mrs. Burton stared at her with narrowed eyes. She didn't believe a word out of Mercedes mouth and that bothered her a great deal. She needed to figure out how to handle this.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When Mercedes had left the room to go and see how bent out of shape Mrs. Burton was Bellamy asked Miller if he could talk to him privately. In the study Bellamy explained what had happened last night and then showed Miller the scratches.

 

Until he saw the scratches Miller too thought it was just a vivid dream. The scratches though, they were a whole different kettle of fish. Bellamy couldn’t reach them himself and that meant that someone else put them there. Miller had to believe it was Clarke.

 

“Wow, Bellamy, she really was here!” he said, taking it all in.

 

“Yes she was – twice now. It has to mean that it is possible to get her back Miller, it has to!”

 

“But how do we do it Bellamy? We don’t know how it happened to begin with. We only know that it did.”

 

Bellamy nodded and tried not to think of that part – the ‘how do we get her back’ part. He only knew that they would – they had to.

 

They both jumped a bit when Mercedes knocked on the door and let herself in. A quick glance at them made her raise her eyebrows and then narrow her eyes. Guilty. She knew they were guilty of something, she just didn't know what. As she continued to stare Bellamy began to blush, while Miller grew pale.

 

“What the hell is going on?” she asked, while her foot began to tap furiously. She didn't have the time or the patience to deal with this shit, whatever it was.

Bellamy stuttered out, “We were just trying to figure out how to get her back, no big deal.” 

 

“Umhmm,” she retorted, clearly not believing him. “Well, what ever the hell it is, we've got a bigger problem to worry about.”

 

She thought that Bellamy seemed to shrink at her words, but remained silent. Miller looked at her and sighed, hoping she just tell them before Bellamy couldn't control himself.

She told them of the issue with Mrs. Burton, and ran her hand through her hair in exasperation. “She's onto something being wrong and she's not gonna let it go you two.”

 

Both men looked shocked and concerned. What were they going to do they wondered? Mrs. Burton wouldn't leave it alone now and outside of telling her the truth, which she likely wouldn't believe, they now had to worry about her getting more involved in the mystery. 

 

“Fuck,” Miller uttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both Bell and Clarke are confused, but they each hold onto the knowledge that the _had_ been together. The 3 musketeers realize that Mrs. Burton isn't going to let things go about what is going on.
> 
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> You, my lovely readers continue to make me amazed at your responses to my story. I love you all and thank you from the bottom of my heart because you keep me going.
> 
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> 
> Next chapter: A new thought occurs to Clarke that scares her as she leaves to go back to Robert's Folly. While she is happy to see her family she feels bittersweet because she thinks she has lost the connection with Bellamy. And - Bellamy feels like he has suddenly lost the connection as well as he feels no comfort in the bedroom.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Burton gets to the bottom of everything, almost forcing the three of them to talk. Clarke returns to Robert's Folly but it breaks her heart to be there.

Bellamy spent the next few days dealing with inspections and then hiring contractors to work on Roberts Folly. The good news was that structurally it was in sound condition. It needed a lot of cosmetic work on it as well as replacing the pipes and electrical systems. Technically they were okay but Bellamy believed in seeing a bit farther down the road and knew that eventually it would all need to be replaced and right now, before someone actually occupied the house would be the best time.

 

The bad news was the pond. It was filthy and couldn’t remain. It was going to cost more to take care of that than the rest of the house altogether. First, they’d have to bring in tank trucks and pump the water out and take it to a sewer recycling center. Then they would have to bring in heavy machinery to scoop out all the mud and decayed materials; who knew what all they would find in it. Mercedes couldn’t wait for it to go; it was so smelly that she threatened not to come back until it was done.

 

Mercedes was doing a lot of the decorating for the house, choosing wall paper and carpets, those types of things. She had been pouring over magazines and books on restoring 18th century homes for days before making her choices. She also kept Clarke in mind, trying to keep things that would appeal to her artistic eyes. Mercedes own artistic eye came in very handy and she immediately sat about sketching and making notes of colors and such. Bellamy was having a brand new kitchen installed and two bathrooms downstairs. One bathroom was already there but needed a lot of work so it was sort of like getting three new ones. Upstairs was going to be a complete renovation.

 

Currently the house had 11 bedrooms and a master suite. It was going to change to 7 bedrooms and a master suite. The difference was the bathrooms and extra space needed for closets. In 1788 when this house was built they didn’t have built in closets, instead they used wardrobes. Things were a bit different these days and so closets it would have.

 

Bell, Miller and Mercedes worked until around 5 and all three of them felt good about the progress they had made. The landscapers would start draining the pond tomorrow since it would be better to get that taken care of immediately. The plumbers would start tomorrow as well, because with all the workers there they would definitely need the bathrooms in working order.

 

When they got home to Archer House all three of them were bone tired and weary. “I’m so ready for a soak in the tub,” Mercedes said as they came in the front door. “I’m almost too tired for dinner.”

 

Mrs. Burton came in the foyer and eyed all three of them from head to toe. “Well ain’t you three as site! Goodness, you smell plenty ripe too. Go and get cleaned up. Oh, and Horace can’t make it to dinner tonight – his rheumatism is a-bothering him. He said he’d give us a call when he can make it. So you three better be plenty hungry because we got lots of food ready!”

 

Even though they hated to admit it, all three were glad that Horace wouldn’t be there for dinner. Horace was always lively and none of them felt chatty or energetic this evening.

 

“How long till dinner is ready Mrs. B?” Mercedes asked, already heading for the stairs.

 

“I can keep it for ‘bout an hour to give you time to clean up.”

 

All three gave her exhausted nods and headed up the stairs to their rooms. She watched them slowly climb the stairs and shook her head. Tonight was the night she was getting the truth out of those three scamps; hit them when they were bone-tired and their defenses were down.

 

She still couldn’t understand why Mr. Bellamy would want to buy that run down old Griffin place but it wasn’t for her to guess his motives. But somehow she was convinced it had something to do with Miss Clarke. Ayup, she was sure it did!

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

As the day wore on Clarke’s heart broke a little more to realize that Bellamy was not there, was not with her. He had been, the blood and his pajama bottoms confirmed it, but for some reason he was gone now.

 

Her grandmother was sending the coach this afternoon to take her back home to Roberts Folly. She was not excited to go home, but it might be good for her. While she was here she was constantly pulled to Bellamy; she ached to see him and after last night she ached for him. She did not know whether or not distancing herself from Archer House would help, but she was willing to try. She felt as if she would go mad, needing him, wanting him, just to see him, to have him hold her.

 

Visions of her and Bellamy last night constantly played through her head; the weight of him in the bed with her, the feel of his skin, the taste of his mouth. She couldn’t stop thinking of it all; of wanting more than one night with him. She understood womanly issues now, loving a man and being loved by one, in every sense of the word.

 

Something she could never have imagined actually. 

 

Clarke had resigned herself to never marrying, never having a family or home of her own. She was 25 years old, past her prime in these times and she was had been fine with that; she never wanted to settle for any man just to be married.

 

Now she had found the perfect man and fate had twisted cruelly and separated them by 200 years. How that possibly could have happened she did not know. Or, more importantly why? They were soulmates; she knew that, meant to be together and yet it was a horribly wicked thing that fate had done, to tease them both with the possibility of love and happiness only to rip it away. She saw no sense in it at all; why did fate choose to bring them together in the first place only to tear them away from one another?

 

Clarke not only felt hurt and betrayed, but she felt angry only she did not know where to direct that anger. Who or what was responsible for the charade? If only she knew.

 

Molly had finished packing her trunk in expectation of Clarke’s departure. In truth, Molly would be sad to see Clarke go; she was a kind and considerate soul in a household that often wasn’t. Serving Miss Clarke when she visited was always a pleasure.

 

“There ye go Miss, tis all done now. Anythin’ else I can do for ye?”

 

“No Molly, that will be all. Thank you very much for all your help and assistance while I’ve been here. I believe I will await the carriage here in my room; will you please let me know when it gets here?”

 

Molly took in Clarke’s pallid face and sad expression; the poor lass must be sufferin’ with her monthly. She also thought she caught the glitter of tears in her eyes and Molly felt a bit sorry for her and wished she could help. “Miss, why don’t ye lie down to await the carriage? I could bring you a warm compress to rest on your stomach; it might help the cramps a bit.”

 

Clarke stared at Molly blankly and then realized why she had said that; she thought Clarke was having her monthly because of the blood on the sheets this morning. Clarke had forgotten all about that. Oh my goodness! What if I’m expecting a child? How will I explain that to grandmother and father? In the meantime Molly was waiting for a response.

 

Clarke smiled at her and said, “No, that it be fine Molly, it shall pass quickly enough I believe.”

 

Molly eyed her suspiciously but bowed her head in acknowledgment and said, “Okay, I’ll be leaving ye then Miss. I’ll let ye know when the carriage arrives.”

 

Clarke sighed as the door closed. That’s when her tears started.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

As Mrs. Burton served dinner she stood and watched as they reluctantly began eating, all of them nervous and wary, knowing that she wasn't going to let the subject of Clarke be. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as not one of them looked up from their plates. When she let them stew for a few minutes she collected her thoughts and finally did something she rarely ever did; she sat down at the table and looked at their shocked and scared faces and told them, “Talk”.

Miller, earnestly told her, “You likely won't believe it”.

 

“Try me,” she encouraged.

Bellamy looked up and she saw how pale and unhappy he looked. Her brow wrinkled as she mulled over what to ask first since none of them offered a word. “Okay, how about what on earth made you buy that old derelict house, Roberts Folly?”

 

“I – I, it made me feel closer to Clarke,” he almost whispered, gauging her reaction.

“Miss Clarke? Why would that make you feel closer to her?”

 

“Because she lived there,” Miller interjected, hoping to take the focus off of Bell, who looked ready to cry.

 

“In that old run down house? How is that even possible? No one has lived there for decades!”

 

“She did live there, in 1822,” Mercedes words were stated clearly as she held Mrs. Burton's gaze.

 

Mrs. Burton stared at all three of them, angry eyes piercing theirs. “If all you are going to tell me is tall tales, I'll leave you be then,” as she started to push her chair back.

“Wait, Mrs. Burton,” Miller said in a rush. “It's true, we can prove it.” 

 

Elsie Burton's eyebrows rose close to and inch at that news. She leaned back in her chair and said skeptically, “Well, go on then.” She clearly didn't believe them.

 

They told her everything, from the beginning and then took her upstairs to view the paintings, the one of Archer House with the grove and the lane, and then the one with her family. Mrs. Burton was clearly taken aback by it all. She shook her head for a moment and muttered, “It just can't be.”

 

Three pairs of eyes blinked back tears as she took it all in. “Well, I'll be.” She looked at the painting that clearly had Clarke's face on it. She shook her head again. “What are you doing to get her back? Is that the reason for the purchase of that old house?”

 

“I don't know that I'll ever get her back, but I feel closer to her there, Mrs. B,” Bellamy stated, a painful lump in his throat threatening to break.

 

Mrs. Burton reached out a hand and placed it on Bellamy's shoulder in an effort to comfort him. She had tears in her own eyes as she nodded her head in encouragement. “You have to try then, keep on trying.”

 

Bellamy managed to make it through the rest of the evening but he put off going to bed as long as possible. He didn’t want to lay in that bed, the bed he had shared with Clarke. Was it only last night?

 

His shoulders still stung a bit from the scratches and he hadn’t found his pajama bottoms, although he had hunted through the room scrupulously. They simply weren’t there and he couldn’t imagine what he did with them.

 

Around eleven Mercedes went to bed. Miller sat with Bellamy, very concerned about him. Bellamy had hardly spoken all evening and even though he was tired he wasn’t going to bed. Miller watched as another yawn escaped Bellamy before he said, “Hey, why don’t you go to bed?”

 

“I don’t know Miller; I guess I can’t stand the thought of laying in the bed without her, you know?”

 

Miller was quiet for a moment, thinking about that. “You know, I understand that but maybe you’ll actually feel better because of it Bellamy. You might feel a sense of comfort.”

 

“As I happen to know for a fact that it happened, it’s strange but I don’t feel a connection to that room anymore. It’s weird, I don’t know why. And something else that’s strange – last night, when I went to bed I had pajama bottoms on and sometime during the night they disappeared. I hunted all over that room this morning and they aren’t there!”

 

“Maybe Mrs. Burton found them and put them in the wash.” He smiled for a minute and added, “At least we know how you lost them, even if you don’t know where.” He grinned as bright red color swept over Bellamy’s face.

 

Bellamy groaned and mumbled, “It’s just weird. It’s like they were never there, except I know they were!”

 

A new thought suddenly occurred to Miller. He didn’t know if it were possible, but something obviously happened to those two and it was beginning to look like it didn’t happen here. “Bellamy, supposed you went there?”

 

Bellamy stared at his friend in puzzlement for a moment before the words actually sunk in. That thought never even crossed his mind. He never felt anything, weird; could it be? Wouldn’t he physically feel something? Yet the only way he'd known he was there before was because the yard was different. “I don’t know Miller, I’d think I would know something like that!”

 

“It seems to me that it is more than a possibility Bellamy. You don’t feel the connection to the bedroom because that wasn’t where it happened; it happened in her bed…”

 

It was a sobering thought to Bellamy. Could it be true? Could he have possibly went to her time? Hell, he had a hard enough time understanding that she had actually been here, although he believed it with all his heart now. 

 

The thoughts about all this were spinning in his head and he knew he needed to go to bed, empty though it was. “I just don’t know Miller. At any rate I’m really tired and I’m going to bed.”

 

“Okay. Did you remember that I’m going in to the Foundation tomorrow to see how things are going? With you being here and all we need to make some battle plans.”

 

Bellamy realized he hadn’t thought of the Blake Foundation in days. Miller was right, they needed to cover the bases. “Okay, that sounds good. Let’s see if we can come up with some type of workable schedule that will allow me to be here as much as possible while all the renovations are going on. Take a look at the possibilities and let me know.”

 

“Will do buddy, will do!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Clarke stared out the carriage window as they approached Roberts Folly. A small part of her felt relief when she saw it, looking as it should. The last time she has saw it was when she met Bellamy; it had been in a very sad state of disrepair and had broken her heart. 

 

The trip by carriage had taken half of an hour’s time; when she rode in the ‘car’ with Bellamy it had taken but a few minutes. The road in 2017 was much smoother as well and she had to say it was much better than this bumpy lane they traveled today. Still, she was home and it brought tears to her eyes. 

 

As the carriage pulled up, her sister’s Ginny and Marcella ran to greet her and it was very pleasing to see them. Both hugged her tight and she returned their embraces with great affection.

 

“Clarke, you look different! Whatever is wrong?” Ginny said, concern written on her face.

 

Clarke felt so much older and wiser but she had no idea that it showed upon her face. She resolved to smile and allay their fears and said, “Ginny, I am but happy to be home. I have missed you greatly. Come, walk with me inside that I may greet Father and Grandmother!” She linked her arms through those of her sisters and they made their way into the front hall of the house.

 

Inside she again felt relief that all was as it should be; the floors polished until they shone with the light that streamed in the windows. She immediately looked into her father’s office and saw him working at his desk. She knew that he was aware that she was home as he couldn’t miss the commotion, but she also knew that he expected her to head to her grandmothers salon to greet her first. With resignation she turned toward the hallway that lead to the salon with Ginny and Marcella following behind, chattering amongst themselves.

 

Her grandmother was sitting on the chesterfield sofa, engaged in some sort of embroidery, perhaps a pillow sham, Clarke could not see all of it. 

 

“Grandmother, I have returned,” she said and bent to kiss Patience Griffin on her soft cheek. Clarke inhaled the lilac fragrance that always enveloped her grandmother and the finality of being home hit her full force.

 

Patience Griffin set her embroidery down next to her and fixed her granddaughter with a stern look. “Well missy, what is wrong with you?”

 

“I am fine Grandmother. It is good to be home.” Clarke said as she took a seat across from her grandmother. 

 

“Hmm, yes, I can see the joy you feel.” 

 

Her grandmother’s acerbic wit usually amused Clarke but it failed to do so this day. What she really wanted was to go to her room and lie down for a bit.

 

“Nothing to say to that Miss? Well, perhaps some tea will spark interest in you. Cook prepared some scones earlier, I’ll have some sent in.”

 

The thought of having to sit with her grandmother and chat was more than Clarke could bear at this time. She was willing to risk offending her by begging off. “Grandmother, I find I have a bit of a headache from the journey, the lane seemed exceedingly rutted this day. May I please be excused to lie down for a bit?”

 

Patience raised her eyebrows in surprise; it was not like Clarke to turn down fresh scones or not sit and chat. Something was up with the girl, but Patience decided to let her be right now. “That will be fine Clarke. Go and rest, but stop first to greet your father; he has been very anxious to have you home.”

 

Clarke nodded to her grandmother and rose to her feet. She stopped to give her grandmother another kiss on her cheek before she left the room. Her grandmother and sisters watched with puzzled eyes as she did.

 

“Something is wrong with her, Grandmother. What do you suppose it is?”

 

“I am not sure, Ginny, but we will find out in time. Yes, we will give her a bit of time.”

 

Clarke heard the exchange as she walked down the hallway to her father’s office. What could she possibly tell them? Certainly not the truth of it all. This she would have to keep to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Mrs. B believes them and actually encourages Bellamy to keep trying to get Clarke back. Did that surprise anyone? 
> 
>  
> 
> Hello lovely readers. I know we are getting close to the end; keep in mind that the catalyst to bring them together has been engaged, so it's only a matter of time for them and 4 chapters left to do it! As always, thanks for the kudos and comments, you make it all worthwhile. :) Also, the remaining chapters are a bit longer than the previous ones, hope you all enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: Clarke has a revelation that changes everything. She has a very difficult decision to make that breaks her heart.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A startling truth makes Clarke realize she had to make a change in her situation. Bellamy watches the house project come to fruition and is eager to move in.

The days rolled by at Roberts Folly, both in 1822 and 2017. For Clarke, they passed slowly and were spent with her grandmother and sisters for the most part. She escaped to paint whenever possible. 

 

She painted the pond out back and the fountain, remembering with sorrow how sad they were in 2017. There would be no saving the pond certainly, but she did hope that someday someone would buy the house and make it a home again. She also hoped that someone would see or find the paintings of the yard to see how beautiful they were. She had no idea if that would happen but she felt happy painting them; they brought peace to her and for the most part peace was something she was sorely lacking now.

 

Each day she longed for more for Bellamy and remembered their time together. Her body tingled with the tumultuous feelings he had stirred within her. As each night passed, she wished herself to him and each morning awoke, disappointed that she was alone in her bed. Still, she it strange but wonderful that she seemed to feel more of a connection to him as the days passed. She knew that was her heart aching for him, as well as her body. She also accepted the fact that if she could not be with Bellamy, she would rather not be with any one. As much as she wanted children of her own, she could not bear the thought of having them with any other man, of any other man touching her intimately as he had.

 

When she was not painting she sat and stitched with her sisters and grandmother; Patience was consumed with making the girls into fine homemakers and this was but only a small part of that pursuit. She made sure they could keep household accounts and manage the servants as well. 

 

Patience watched Clarke carefully, under the guise of helping her with her stitches. There was not a thing wrong with them, but they gave Patience a chance to observe Clarke more closely. She was firmly convinced that something was very wrong with her eldest granddaughter and she meant to talk to her son about it soon.

 

Clarke was not unaware of the assessing looks visited upon her by her grandmother, and her sisters as well. Ginny and Marcella were much more open in the questions, but each one was answered by Clarke with a firm “Nothing at all is wrong, tis but the heat that is bothering me!”

 

Later in the afternoon of the first fortnight of Clarke's return to home she sought her son out, hoping for some guidance concerning Clarke.

 

“Jacob, I am of the belief that something is wrong with Clarke,” Patience told her son. “She picks at her food, stares blindly at nothing and often does not answer when directly asked a question. Have you noticed any of this?” 

 

Clarke was the most serious of her sisters; she was always attentive and caring of her family and yet now she seemed to have lost interest in everything around her and it worried Patience a great deal.

 

“Mother, do you not recognize young love when it strikes?” Jacob asked with a twinkle in his eye. “Surely that is the situation.”

 

“Where, pray tell, would she have met this young man Jacob? That should be a thought to occupy you!” she declared. She had already considered the possibility of a young man but since not one had come calling she found it to be an impossibility.

 

“No doubt we shall find out quickly enough, Mother. Have patience,” he said with a smile as he contemplated his small play upon her name.

 

Patience tapped her foot quickly, the only outward sign of her irritation with her son. He did not take such matters seriously enough. He would not care if any of the girls married and made homes of their own. As their grandmother, it was her job to see that the girls were well-educated and marriageable and she fully intended to meet those requirements. Men did not understand she declared to herself.

 

“Mark my words Jacob, there is more going on here than Clarke being smitten with some lad, who I might add may possibly not be worthy of her affections!” With that she rose and left the room, more determined than ever to discover the secret that Clarke hid.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

In 2017 Bellamy worked patiently on Roberts Folly, using the few paintings they had as a guide to remodeling as close to the original as possible. He made great progress with the help of Mercedes and Miller.

 

The attic opened a whole world to them of furniture, art work and trunks full of clothing and belongings, most of which were in surprisingly good condition. Except for the style of some of the furnishings they couldn't often tell what might have been there in Clarke's time. The paintings revealed much more information however and as several of them were definitely painted during Clarke's time, with one or two by her it often made them smile, especially one of her grandmother, sitting in a chair in the parlor. She was a very attractive woman, but there was no smile on her face, rather she looked vaguely irritated, maybe because she thought she had better things to do. The chair she sat in had the most beautiful color of rose upholstery and they found that chair among the furniture offerings but it had been reupholstered, but Mercedes knew she could find something very close to it.

 

Mercedes really appreciated the paintings of the house, the gardens, the pond and the fountain. She smiled at the tranquil beauty of Clarke's time and wished more than once that she could have seen the estate back then. The trees were green and lush as were the grasses; the stones paving the way to the gazebo and fountain made her smile with the care in which they had been laid.

 

Miller ran the office 5 days a week, handling much of the PR and events that the Blake Foundation took part in. Bellamy made an appearance once or twice a week, mostly as a figurehead only but it was enough to keep things going. The rest of the time he spent at the house or shopping with Mercedes for fixtures and furnishings for Roberts Folly. In the east attics was where Mercedes had found a huge cache of furniture, most of it several hundred years old; a lot of it was still usable as it was so finely crafted. Some upholstery and they would look practically knew. She even picked out a few pieces that were definitely after Clarke's time, but she couldn't help herself because she loved them.

 

The bedroom that he had found Clarke in that day must have been her bedroom Bellamy decided so it became the new master suite with the bedchamber, sitting room, dressing room and closet and the en-suite bathroom. He thought back to her at Archer House and the mess he had found her in but the memory now brought him so much joy, even if he had been irritated then. He intended this suite to be a haven for the two of them and felt his desire for her overwhelming; it was all he could do to refocus on the task at hand, getting the rest of the bedroom plans decided. He and Mercedes poured over wallpaper samples, paint colors and carpeting squares before finally deciding on the color scheme for the room. They decided that a soft moss green and rose would be beautiful, not too frilly or too male oriented. He wanted it to look like someplace Clarke would be comfortable in. In truth, it could be all pink as far as he went; the only thing that would matter was having Clarke in it. When it was finished he decided that it looked like Clarke and that thought brought hope to his heart. As he looked at it he realized it looked like Clarke; he knew that sounded silly but it was true. He could envision his love in this room and he would often stand quietly in it, staring out at the grounds that were being landscaped and manicured below. This would be his room, once he was ready to move in, regardless if she never came back to him.

 

It was dangerous in a way for him to think about her as he planned the house. He knew he saw her here, walking the halls, skipping down the stairs, her azure eyes smiling at him as she went to embrace him. It was strange in a way; the more he worked on the house the closer to her he felt. Maybe just because it had been her home but sometimes he _knew_ she was there with him, separated by a mere 200 years. He felt her, sensed her, could scent her all around him and he took that as hope that he would get her back. Was rescuing her home enough to do it? He didn't know but he still put everything he had in to the repair and renovation of her home.

 

The house would be ready in only a few days he realized. They had been working non-stop on the house for almost six weeks now and it was amazing to watch as the mansion emerged from the ruins. Some of the villagers could often be seen watching the progress and nodding their approval. The only addition he had made to the house was to create a place to have as a studio, a place she could paint in peace and call her own. The addition was off the back of the house with windows that looked out upon the gardens and lawn. He thought it looked quite inspirational and hoped she would find it so.

 

Landscapers had planted grasses and flower beds and well as built pathways through the area where the lake had been. Trees were brought in to add to the park, as he thought of it and he could see them walking on the paths and maybe a few kids chasing one another through it as well. Or at least he hoped for a few kids to share their lives.

 

Mrs. Burton had helped to find him a housekeeper and she appeared to be a jewel. Her name was Mazie Carmichael and she seemed capable of running the house with one hand tied behind her back, and probably me too Bellamy thought with a laugh. Her job was to get a part-time helper hired and get the kitchen in order and she seemed to just wave a magic wand around and it was all accomplished with little effort. Bellamy decided that the house would be ready for him to move into in three days and he made the trip to Willow View, his family home to arrange to have some things sent to Roberts Folly. Tavie would be home in 2 weeks and he knew he would have some explaining to do about all of this, but he hoped she would take it well. He had papers drawn up to have the title and deed to Willow View put into her name on her 25th birthday, which he hoped would give her time to finish school and take her place at the Foundation without adding too much pressure on her. Someday he knew she would meet someone and this way she would have a home of her own to share. 

 

There were times, the last few days especially when Bellamy wondered about his own sanity. What he was doing would be regarded as crazy by most folks, but sometimes life takes unexpected turns and you just have to go with them. He realized that he fully expected that he and Clarke would be together; possibly after the house was completed. If that wasn’t crazy he didn’t know what was. All he really knew was that he couldn’t change his course now, even if he had wanted to. 

 

And he most certainly didn’t.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

As each day crept by Clarke started to fret a bit more. The time for her monthly came and went, first a couple of days late then eventually 3 weeks. She was in no doubt as to what that meant. At night she would lie in bed and caress her stomach and try to convince herself and the new life that she carried that all would be well, but she knew better.

 

She didn’t know how this would be looked upon in 2017 but in 1822 it was a wicked disgrace; it would not only ruin her, it would ruin the whole family. All would be shamed because of her and she grieved for all that would arise from her mistake.

 

Except she didn’t regard it as a mistake; she could not. She would do it again if presented with the possibility. Bellamy had her heart and now she had his child, growing inside her and she willed it to grow strong and healthy.

 

She would have to go away she supposed, run away actually and make her way in the city. She hoped that her paintings were as good as everyone said they were because that was the only means of supporting herself that she had. She would have to present herself as a widow and hoped the story would not be questioned too closely. Was Boston far enough away or should she try to make it to New York? She was not sure but knew that she must make plans soon.

 

She was loath to leave Roberts Folly. She felt closer to Bellamy each day and sometimes she almost felt his presence, here in her room with her. The feelings were fleeting, really more of a subtle impression but they thrilled her and she lived for those brief moments to overtake her. The warmth of him, the feeling of contentment in her room thrilled her and made her heart ache at the same time because she was going to have to leave here and she was afraid that the feeling of him wouldn't follow her. In truth, where ever he was felt like home and if she lost that it might well literally break her heart.

 

She had money saved up; being a Griffin had advantages. It would be enough to take her to her chosen destination and find a room to live in while she got established in the city. The coach came through here on Thursday next, two days away and she realized she must be upon it. What she did not know was how to smuggle her clothes and paints out of the house without the notice of her family. 

 

Finally she decided to bribe one of the stable boys to hide her things away near where the coach stopped; she could then take them with her. Not everything certainly, but she would have enough to get her by and before too long she would need other clothes to fit her growing body. 

 

That decided, she set about packing away as much as was possible; as much as she could that would not be noticed by the maid. She took serviceable clothes, ones that would be less likely to get her noticed. She would not be able to take her easel, or canvas’ but all her paints and water colors would come with her. At the last moment she tucked in a few small paintings she had done and few small canvas’ so that she would have something to show when she got there. 

 

Next she decided that Caleb, one of the stable boys was the correct one to approach to help her and the next morning she made arrangements for his aid. The plan was set in motion; now all she need do was to wait. Caleb knew that he would be sent from here for helping her if it should be discovered but she seemed in genuine distress and he felt he must help her. He kept it quiet and told no one of the plan and vowed to help as much as he could. She was a sweet person and had always been exceptionally kind to him.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Two more days Bellamy decided, just two more days. Everything he was bringing from Willow View would be here tomorrow and he would move in the following day. The house itself was done; all that was left was a bit of landscaping and the repair of the fountain. That would be done tomorrow as well and then the renovations would be done. Some new furnishings were to be delivered on Thursday and then it was ready to go. He stared at the lovely faded pink brick of the façade, with white shutters and realized how much it looked like it had in one of the paintings they had found. 

 

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Mercedes said as she stood with him and watched as the pipe work for the fountain was installed.

 

“Yes, it is,” he declared. “Who would have thought it could be this lovely, that first day we saw it?”

 

“It had potential, even then,” she said as they walked inside the house. It smelled of fresh paint and the wood that had been used to restore parts of the house. They both walked into the office by silent decision and Bellamy traced the words that had been carved into the wood work. Each name was still there, as well as the heights and ages of each child. Those pieces of wood work had been painstakingly salvaged and refurbished; each name and date was starkly evident now and Bellamy laid his head against the part where Clarke’s name was carved and sighed. He smiled as his gaze fell upon the old desk they had found in the attics. She had described the desk to him and he hoped this was it. It really was beautiful and if he was right, he knew that it would remind her of her father; he hoped he had done enough for her to feel at home here.

 

“Will she come back or is this all for naught?” he asked Mercedes.

 

She laid her hand on his back and patted him comfortingly. “I don’t know Bellamy. I only know that if determination and love are important at all, then they will surely bridge the years for you. I hope they will Bellamy.” She was sad as she said the words because she felt doubtful that Clarke would come back. But still she hoped for Bellamy that she would. “Come on now, we have to get back to Archer House. Horace is finally coming to dinner and he told Mrs. Burton that he had something for us.”

 

“For us? What do you suppose that is?” he asked, walking out the front door and locking it securely behind him. Another thing to do, have the security company out to install the security system. 

 

“I dunno. Guess we’ll just have to wait.” She laughed and added, “Knowing Horace it’s probably some horrible embarrassing thing from our pasts that he wants to tease us about.”

 

Ten minutes later they pulled into the drive at Archer House and headed in to wash up before dinner. Horace was already there and they greeted him as they went to wash up.

 

“Horace, how lovely you could finally come! Are you feeling better?” Mercedes asked as she plunked a quick kiss on his weathered cheek.

 

He blushed with delight and said, “Well, I feel right as rain. Looking forward to Mrs. Burton’s fine dinner.”

 

Mercedes and Bellamy both sniffed the air appreciatively and nodded. “It does smell good,” Bellamy said, his mouth watering. He smelled roasted meat and vegetables and maybe some apple pie baking. His stomach rumbled in expectation and he laughed and said, “I’m going to wash up. I don’t want to be late for this dinner!”

 

By the time Mercedes and Bellamy got back downstairs Miller was home and he and Horace were sitting in the living room sipping some hard cider. 

 

“I’ll take some of that,” Mercedes said as she saw what they were drinking. She held up a glass to Bellamy and he nodded so she filled one for him as well.

 

Mrs. Burton came into the room and said, “Don’t get comfortable, might as well head into the dining room. Dinner is in 5 minutes.”

 

As they settled around the table they chatted about the latest town news. When you lived is such a small town as Archers Grove, everyone knew what everyone else did, there were no secrets.

 

Mrs. Burton settled the dishes of roast and vegetables down on the table in front of them. Nothing fancy, just good food and they all smiled and sniffed approvingly. Miller served them all and said to Mrs. Burton, “Won’t you sit with us tonight?”

 

She looked embarrassed; she could sit with them anytime, but she didn’t. She felt it was better to keep a bit of distance but since Horace was here she decided to break her own rule for once and went to grab another plate and some silverware. She felt self-conscious sitting at the table but that passed quickly as they chatted over the meal. Mostly the conversation was about the renovations going on over at Roberts Folly.

 

Bellamy’s Folly was more like it she thought, but still, it would be nice to have the scamp here in the neighborhood. Still, he had to have spent a fortune on that old house. It had gone from run down wreck to a beautiful home in what seemed like no time at all. She had to hand it to Bellamy for seeing the possibilities in the old house.

 

“I hear you got Mazie Carmichael to work over there Elsie. She’ll run that house with an iron fist,” Horace chuckled. Mazie was known for keeping things in ship shape, due to a stint in the Navy. 

 

“Just what this one needs,” she said, indicating Bellamy. “Ayup, she’ll take care of things alright!”

 

“Oh, I almost forgot, I have some papers for you young’un’s. Found it when I was cleaning out some old files in the store room at the paper. I knew you had been asking about a painter over there at Roberts Folly. Thought this might be just what you were looking for.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a deeply faded and worn piece of paper and handed it to Mercedes who read it out loud to them.

 

“It is reported with great  
sorrow by the Griffin  
household that Miss Clarke  
Griffin has been re-  
ported missing. Miss Griffin  
is the eldest daughter of Jacob  
and the late Abigail Archer Griffin.

Miss Clarke disappeared on Thurs-  
day last, August 13th. It is not   
known if she was abducted or  
has met with other foul play.  
She was last seen making   
her way to the village to buy   
art supplies. Miss Griffin  
was a well-known artist in   
this area and many of our  
finer homes have some of   
her excellent art work in   
them. ‘We still have hope  
that she will be found safe,  
Jacob Griffin was  
quoted as saying.”

 

Mrs. Burton noticed that three faces paled at the news as Mercedes read the newspaper notice and realized that hers might be pinch pale as well. Mayhap this meant that Miss Clarke would come here. One thing was for sure – she had disappeared there. Mercedes laid it down when she was finished and grabbed Bellamy’s hand and said, “Bellamy!” She had tears in her eyes and Elsie noticed that so did Bellamy and Miller. 

 

All three of them only shook their heads, leaving Horace to wonder what in the world was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Horace brought news that gave them all hope, Bellamy took the news to heart and lets himself believe she would return. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hello lovely readers! Yes, we are nearing the end and this chapter changes everything for the soulmates. But how will it work is the question since they don't know what really made it happen the first time. You all continue to amaze me and melt my heart with all your comments and kudos. Thank you so much!!
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: Horace wants in on the scoop about Clarke and the conversation makes Mercedes a bit sad as she realizes how much she loves her old boss and that he wouldn't be around forever. Bellamy decides to spend the night at Roberts Folly and he and Clarke each spend an anxious night thinking about their lives. What will happen to them?


	33. chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke prepares for the journey that will change her life forever and worries how she will be able to take care of her child. Bellamy decides to move to Robert's Folly immediately instead of waiting.

Upon reading the notice that Clarke had disappeared all three young faces paled dramatically. Mercedes reached for her glass of hard cider and took a quick sip and then practically choked on it when Mrs. Burton spoke. 

 

"Well, I'll be damned,” she exclaimed.

 

Bellamy stole a quick look at her face and felt his own go from pasty white to vivid red. He looked hopefully at Miller and Mercedes, praying that someone would speak up.

 

Mercedes finally stopped coughing and spoke up when she realized that neither Bellamy nor Miller would or could. All three of them were shocked to have heard Mrs. Burton say that, none of them had ever heard her say anything like that before.

 

Horace just stared curiously at all of them. He was a newspaper man from way back and he knew a story when he came upon one. His old eyes were sparking with questions but he decided he'd just hang on a bit before he voiced his opinion. 

 

Horace was no one’s fool and he knew that there was something fishy about all this; he just couldn’t understand what exactly. As he looked at their faces she knew that they had a secret; he just hoped it wouldn’t get any of them in trouble.

 

While Horace seemed oblivious to the waves of energy flowing around him he continued to eat his dinner. “Elsie, this here is just delicious. Nobody can do a roast like you. I surely do thank you for the invite.” He took one more bite and reiterated, “Ayup, very fine supper!”

 

“You’re welcome Horace,” she told him, still looking around the table at the other three who were all hanging their heads and pushing food around on their plates. For all the enthusiasm they were showing it might as well have been cardboard.

 

Eventually they got through the dinner and Bellamy, Miller and Mercedes headed into the family room with Horace in tow. He declined the offer to sit for a bit and again thanked them for the dinner. Mercedes walked him to the door and he looked at her pale face and commented, “You alright young ‘un?”

 

“Sure Horace. I guess I’m just tired; we’ve been working so hard on Bellamy’s new place that I haven’t slept well in a while. But he gets to move in soon so most of the work is done!”

 

“Ayup, that’s a good thing to see that old place renovated. Sure has caused a stir in the village though. People are curious, yes they are. I suppose that’s why all the curiosity about the Griffin family?”

 

Mercedes nodded her head and looked up at Horace and realized that he too knew something was up. His old rheumy eyes were fixing her with a stare that in the old days would have scared her to death. But now, all she felt was guilty; how could they possibly tell him what they knew? Not likely he would believe them.

 

She stared at him and blinked several times. Horace met her gaze and finally said, “Something you want to tell me girl?”

 

“Nothing you would believe Horace.”

 

“You might be surprised. Well, if’n you decide otherwise let me know.” He patted her arm and she swallowed back a sob.

 

He pulled his hand away from her arm and continued to stare at her and then she literally crumbled in front of him and choked out the story.

 

Miller, Bellamy and Mrs. Burton joined them and all of them looked shook up. Horace nodded briefly and then said, “So you all believe this?”

 

Mrs. Burton replied, “I know it sounds crazy, Horace, but I do believe its true. When she was here she was just so different and the painting of her, well, it clearly is her.”

 

Horace pursed his lips for a moment, thinking over his words likely. “I believe strange things happen more often than people think. I'm old but I still know that sometimes miracles do happen.” He looked directly at Bellamy, “So you believe now that she will come back, after reading the article?”

 

“I have to, she is the best thing to ever happened to me. I love her so much...” He wiped a tear off of his cheek as he looked at Horace.

 

“Ayup, I get that, son. I hope I get to meet her son.”

 

Bellamy nodded shakily, trying to meet the old man's eyes. He couldn't believe that he actually believed them. “Thank you, Horace, for your help.”

 

“And you Miss Trouble,” he smiled at Mercedes, “Better keep me informed, you hear? A newspaper man needs to keep on top of things.” His eyes were laughing as he spoke to her.

 

“Oh Horace, you make me feel silly. You’ve got to come out here more often. We’re gonna have a party at Roberts Folly soon. Hope you’ll come out?”

 

“An’ miss some of Mazie Carmichael's cookin’? Goodness gracious no!” he chuckled. “Be seein’ you then. Now you and them boys stay out of trouble, you hear. And remember, I’m here if you need me.”

 

Mercedes watched his slow gait out to his car and realized that he really was getting older. He had seemed ancient when she worked for him but the years were really telling on him now. It was a sad thought for her – that he wouldn’t always be around. She closed the door and went back to the family room, wiping away her tears.

 

She walked him out to the car and waved as he pulled down the drive. She didn't know what she'd do when he was gone.

 

Both Bellamy and Miller knew something was wrong and got to their feet as she came back into the house. “Mercedes, what’s wrong?” Miller inquired.

 

“Nothing really. It’s just – he’s getting older you know and it occurred to me that he wouldn’t always be around. That’s all, well and Clarke,” she finished with a sigh as she wiped away the last of her tears.

 

Bellamy nodded and said, “What do you suppose it means? The article I mean?”

 

“I, I don’t know Bellamy. Do we dare have hope that she returns here when she disappears there – uh, then?”

 

Miller had been quiet as he listened to this and spoke up, “I think we must assume that. What else could happen to her?”

 

Sadly, none of them knew but the possibilities scared them all.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The day passed quickly for Clarke; she spent time with her family and if a few tears popped up occasionally she hoped that none of them would notice. The time was especially poignant with her father; she loved him dearly and possibly would miss him the most. He had always indulged her and they shared a special bond. 

 

_How do you say goodbye to someone without actually saying goodbye?_

 

She knew of no way to do that so she tried to tell each of them in turn that she cared for them. She had considered writing a letter to them to find after she was gone but decided against it. It would be better if they thought she just disappeared instead of running away in disgrace. It wasn’t a good situation but it seemed the best to her. She could not hurt her whole family with the knowledge that she was pregnant with a child that belonged to a man from 2017. It was an untenable situation.

 

That night she lay in her bed and the tears fell in a warm crystal cascade. How could she do such a thing? What will they think? It would be different if she was going to Bellamy, but she no longer believed that was possible. What would become of her she wondered? Could she actually sell her paintings to make a living or would she end up as a servant somewhere? In her heart she knew that was the most likely situation and if that was what was to happen to her, she would accept it as long as she could have a healthy baby.

 

What would Bellamy think if he were to know that she had his child? Would he be happy? Does he even remember me? It was six weeks ago now since she had been home and she was positive that his life had went on. 

 

But she knew better than that. He had come to her and made love to her; she knew that he loved her as much as she loved him. She ached to feel his arms around her again, holding her tightly and telling her that everything would be alright. Clarke was pragmatic and knew that most likely things were not going to be alright. She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow in an effort to stifle the sobs that made her throat burn. Her sorrow was just beginning she believed.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bellamy watched as the truck for the alarm company pulled out of the drive way. He turned around with a satisfied smile; the house was ready for him to move in. Mrs. Carmichael was in the kitchen, putting supplies away, in preparation for the move in tomorrow. Carrie, her helper was making up the bedroom with the new linens and getting the bathroom supplied and ready. 

 

Bellamy inhaled deeply; the house smelled of paint and wood and lemons which he was sure was the cleaner Mazie used. It smelled like a home and it almost felt like a home but it was missing one critical element – Clarke. Would she ever get to see what he had accomplished here? What he had done for her in an attempt to bring her back to him?

 

He went for a walk around the grounds; you couldn’t even tell where the pond had been and he accepted that fact with a sad sigh. It had taken a full week to remove all the contaminated soil and treat the ground around where the pond had been. Then they had brought in truckloads of fresh soil and planted grass seed over it. Most of the plants that they had planted would likely not really come to fruition right away, not for a few years anyway. But it looked lovely. On the far side of the gardens he had planted maple trees since he knew she loved them. The fountain had been restored and it was actually quite nice he thought. 

 

The stables had also been refurbished and now Pilot, his prize stallion was housed there. Bellamy watched as he ran through the pasture and admired the long-legged gait that the stallion had. It was late in the day or he might have been tempted to take him for a run. As he stood at the fence watching Ricky, the groomsman walked up and looked at Pilot as well.

 

“He’s a mighty fine animal Mr. Blake. You going to put him to stud?”

 

Bellamy smiled and nodded, “Eventually Ricky. I think he’d sire some fine colts.”

 

“Yes, I think he would. And he seems to like his new pasture here.”

 

“Yes, he actually has more room to run here. It will be good for him. I think I’ll take him for a run in the morning. Can you have him ready by about 9:00?”

 

“Certainly Mr. Blake. I’ll see you then!” Ricky waved and headed back into the stables. 

 

Bellamy went back to the house to say goodbye to Mrs. Carmichael. It was near 7 o’clock and if he wanted to make dinner at Archer House he needed to get going.

 

“So Mr. Blake, you’ll be back in the morning I take it?” she asked as she stocked the panty.

 

“Yes, really early actually. I’ve already moved most of my things here, just a few things left. Don’t worry about breakfast though, I’ll eat at Archer House and then I’m going to go for a ride here on Pilot.”

 

“Sure thing. I’ll see you in the morning then!” 

 

Bellamy nodded and headed out to the car to make the trip back to Miller’s. It would be the last night he spent there and in truth he was anxious for it to be over so he could move in here. 

 

On the way to Archer House he couldn’t stop thinking about Roberts Folly. He wanted to be there, needed to be for some reason. By the time he got to Miller’s he’d made up his mind.

 

Mercedes was in the family room when he got there and he told her, “I’m going to move into Roberts Folly tonight.”

 

Mercedes looked at him and smiled as if it was no surprise to her. “Yeah, I kind of expected it. What do you need to do to get ready?”

 

“Nothing really, just take my bag down to the car; everything’s packed already.”

 

“Mm, okay. Well, have dinner first; Mrs. Burton has it ready. Miller is washing up and then we can eat,” she told him and grinned as he headed out to wash up himself.

 

Since it was Bellamy’s last dinner there before moving to his new home Mrs. Burton had made spaghetti, garlic bread and strawberry cheesecake. That was normally a meal that would tempt them all but this time all it did was remind them of Clarke. None of them knew what the future would bring, but each one in their own way sought peace of mind; for Bellamy mostly but really for all of them.

 

After a quiet farewell Bellamy loaded his bag into the trunk of the car and headed down the drive way. Mercedes watched with tears in her eyes as the BMW made the turn to the north at the end of the driveway.

 

“Will he be okay do you think?” she asked Miller as they closed the door and went into the study. 

 

Miller poured them both a drink and handed one to Mercedes. “I don’t know.” He held his glass up in a toast and added, “Here’s to the future and a little magic!”

 

Mercedes raised hers as well and said, “May it be so!” They both finished their drinks and left the room. By silent agreement they headed for their own beds, each thinking of Bellamy and what might be ahead for him.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

At Roberts Folly Mrs. Carmichael and Carrie had already left for the night. He set the alarm as soon as he got inside and looked around the foyer, restored to its former glory. The parquet floors were not the originals, but they were still beautiful and they gleamed in the soft light overhead. Bellamy wandered around the first floor for a few minutes, admiring the small touches that Mercedes had used to make it feel like home for him. It would be a comfortable place to live, even if he was alone.

 

He finally had enough and decided to go to bed and made his way to the master suite. He unpacked the last few things in his bag and then took a shower, letting the fine spray envelope him. For a moment he was lost in the steamy mist and he closed his eyes; it reminded him of the mist the morning he had first seen Clarke. He immediately shut the water off and stepped out. He was struggling enough as it was, he needed no reminders of her because she lived within him and the reminders only made him realize that they were only dreams.

 

Bellamy slid into his pajama bottoms and then pulled the covers back on the bed. He looked at the king-sized bed and for a moment he wanted to run back to Miller’s. He suddenly didn’t know if he could sleep here; maybe he should go to one of the guest rooms? He debated and finally knew that he had to face it sometime and so he crawled between the covers and lay back among the pillows and tried to relax.

 

Bellamy had almost fallen asleep when he thought her heard crying; no, not just crying but sobs, heart-rending sobs of someone in real pain. He looked around the room but couldn’t see anything. Bellamy frowned and got out of bed and looked out the window but couldn’t see anything outside either. He stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips listening for the sounds again.

 

“Clarke?” he called out, but there was no answer, only the sad sounds of muffled tears and a heart breaking. But whose heart was it?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

After a restless night Bellamy got dressed and headed downstairs where he surprised Mrs. Carmichael as she folded towels at the table. “Why Mr. Blake, I didn’t hear you come in!”

 

“That’s because I decided to stay here last night. Do you think you could scare me up a bit of breakfast after all?” he asked apologetically.

 

“Certainly! What would you like?”

 

Actually just some coffee and maybe some toast or something; I’m not really very hungry,” he told her as he stood looking out the window. It looked cloudy and he knew that if he was going to get a ride in he needed to hurry up.

 

“I’ve got some banana muffins. Would that work? The coffee is already brewed so let me get you a cup.”

 

“The muffin Bellamy be fine. I want to eat quickly because I want to get a quick ride on Pilot; looks like rain.”

 

“Ayup, it does. Better be a quick ride,” she said as she moved the towels off the table and set his muffin and coffee down.

 

“It will be,” he promised. Ten minutes later he was out the door and headed to the stable.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When Clarke finally got out of bed her eyes were swollen and red. She splashed cold water over her face repeatedly, to no avail. She had spent most of the night crying; she cried because she missed Bellamy, because she would miss her family. She cried for the little one she carried in her belly as she wondered what kind of life she would be able to provide for it. Mostly, she cried because she was scared; it was one thing to live the privileged life she had so far – it was totally something different to have no one to support and care for you. She laid a hand over her still flat belly and promised the little one that she would always take care of it.

 

She decided that she needed to leave as quickly as possible and rang for her maid, Germaine.

 

“Yes Miss? Ya be up early this mornin’. What can I bring ya?”

 

“Just some tea and a scone please. Then can you lay some clothes out for me?”

 

“Of course Miss. I’ll be right back.”

 

While she was gone Clarke hurriedly washed and brushed her hair, pulling it back into a tight bun. She hated her hair this way but it would be the easiest while she was traveling. She had decided to go to New York because Boston was too close to home. She might very well see someone she knew there. New York was three days away by carriage and she needed things to be as easy as possible.

 

Germaine returned with her tray and as Clarke sat to eat she inquired, “What would you like to wear today Miss. Something cool I think because it’s cloudy and very thick outside.”

 

“Do you think a storm is coming?” Clarke asked, concerned if it would delay the coach.

 

“Looks like it Miss. How about the grass green muslin? It goes fair well with yer complexion!”

 

“No, I think not. I’m going to go out to draw for a while so make it the green linen instead. If it storms it might get a bit chilly on my way home.”

 

Germaine looked at her with surprise and then doubt but followed her mistress’s orders. She thought it was a big mistake though, the green muslin had an over skirt and jacket with it and would undoubtedly be hot. But she decided she wasna paid to question, only to do, so she laid it out. 

 

Clarke had finished her breakfast by then and Germaine helped her to dress. As Clarke stood and looked at her room for the last time, Germaine thought she saw tears in her eyes but then decided it just must be the light. Clarke grabbed a small book of parchment and some pastels that she hadn’t packed, and closed the door behind her. “I’ll only be gone a short while. Please tell my grandmother that I’ll be fine and give her my regards.”

 

“Don’t you wanna see her yerself Miss? She’s in the morning room.” 

 

“No, I’ll see her later,” Clarke said as she made her way down the stairs. She knew she could not bear to see her family again. She had to go now because she had a long walk ahead. She didn’t look behind her as she closed the front door. This was no time to look backwards.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ricky saddled Pilot quickly for Bellamy. “I thought you might be out early since it looks like it’s going to storm.”

 

“Yes I decided that would be best. Thanks Ricky,” he said as Ricky handed over the reins. Bellamy hopped up on Pilot and headed out, determined to make the most of the time he had.

 

He headed for the far pastures at a gallop; he and Pilot both enjoyed the run. As they ran Bellamy realized he was heading for the meadow where he first had seen Clarke. He called himself every kind of fool for doing it but he didn’t care. He needed to go there, if only to remember.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Clarke looked up at the sky; it was beginning to have yellow and green streaks. It reminded her of the morning Bellamy found her. She was very close to the meadow and she decided to take a detour by it. She would never see it again and she stifled a small cry at that thought.

 

The wind was picking up and the huge black clouds swirled and twisted above her head. She really was glad that she had the linen suit on because it was a bit chilly in the wind. She knew she dare not delay too much because her grandmother would likely send someone out after her this time because of the storm. She walked a bit faster, into the meadow and felt as if her breath was being sucked out of her. The swirling clouds seemed to be right on top of her as she suddenly spied someone on horseback in the distance. 

 

Clarke stared in shock, wondering who could be out in this storm on such a fine animal. It seemed as if they were bearing down on her and she felt very scared. Obviously her grandmother had already sent someone to find her!

 

Bellamy saw her in the distance; he knew without a doubt that it was Clarke. He could see the way she stood, the storm swirling around her. The closer he got he saw the worry on her face, the fear. He saw her place her hand over her stomach and then crumple to the ground. He kneed Pilot on faster; he had to get to her.

 

Clarke’s stomach knotted and cramped; she thought she might be losing the little one. She could only stare in horror as the horseman bore down on her. As she crumpled to the ground she realized it was Bellamy. Bellamy had come to save her.

 

“Clarke, Clarke! Sweetheart, it’s me Bellamy. You’re okay,” he declared as he quickly jumped down from Pilot. She was ghostly white and chilled to the bone. The sky had miraculously started clearing; it hadn’t rained after all. He sat on the ground and held her in his arms, rocking her as he would a small child.

 

Azure blue eyes fluttered open and stared at the man she loved. She smiled and then the tears began to flow down her cheeks. Her hand still cradled her stomach and she said, “You came to save us!”

 

“Of course Clarke. I’ve been trying so hard to get you back, my love. I don’t know how, but I’m not letting you leave this time!” He gently wiped away her tears with warm fingers and then bent to softly kiss her lips.

 

“Wait. Clarke, did you just say ‘us’.”

 

She took his hand and placed in on her stomach. “Yes Bellamy. Us…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A most happy reunion for our two lovers. 
> 
>  
> 
> Wow, only 2 chapters left lovely readers. :( This story is truly my favorite story, out of the many stories I have written. I loved delving back into 1822 via lots of watching Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility and so on. I always want my readers to _hear_ the voices of those times, to _be_ there and I hope I've accomplished that. Thank you so much for all the support you have given me, whether it was kudos or comment. Love you all so much. I am working on another multi-chapter story called **With Stars in Our Eyes** , and I likely won't post it until it is done, but I'm about half way done now. It is totally different from Perfect Timing, but I hope you will all love it anyway. More about it and maybe a sneak peek at it when Perfect Timing is done.
> 
>  
> 
> So, next chapter: Bellamy plans a family dinner so they all can see Clarke, but only after their passionate reunion. ;)


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter, so much to cover but lets just say they are very happy and enjoying every minute of it. : ) Clarke still worries that she'll not stay there until Bellamy shows her the article that Horace gave them.

Bellamy stared at her for a moment as understanding finally sunk in. Tears sprung to his eyes and he caressed her stomach and bent to kiss her again.

 

“Clarke, you’re pregnant? You’re sure, love?”

 

Clarke watched his face, trying to decipher what she saw. Was he happy or not? How did people feel about babies in 2017? She nodded her head and tried to sit up, wanting to be able to look him full in the face.

 

She didn’t have to bother; Bellamy grabbed her and pulled her to him in a ferocious hug. “Oh my Clarke, I am so happy! I not only get you but we get a baby too? Have you taken a pregnancy test?” As soon as he said it he realized the ridiculousness of that statement; he was pretty sure there was no such thing in 1822.

 

“You are happy Bellamy? Truly?” she asked softly. Oh, how she wanted him to be happy because she was.

 

“Love, I’m ecstatic! I couldn’t be happier. C’mon, we need to get you home. Is it okay for you to be on the horse?” he asked, thinking that maybe he should go back to Roberts Folly and grab the car. Suddenly that didn’t seem like a good idea – he was not leaving her alone.

 

She smiled and nodded; the truth was she did not really know but she decided that as long as she was with Bellamy it would be okay. 

 

Bellamy scooped her up in his arms and sat her on the horse then handed her the bag that was sitting on the ground. She smiled at him, it had something like drawing of her family that were important to her. After she and the bag were settled he climbed on behind her. “Hang on Clarke, it won’t take us long to get home, okay? And then I’m calling Mercedes and Miller because we all want to know what happened to you!”

 

Clarke thought that even on the horse it would take at least 30 minutes to get to Archer House but she did not care; she was in Bellamy’s arms and that was the most wonderful place to be and she nestled back against him, loving the warmth and strength of his arms around her.

 

She was surprised when they headed to Roberts Folly instead of Archer House a few minutes later. She was even more surprised when she saw the house itself; it looked almost as it did in 1822.

 

“Bellamy, how? I mean, it is a beautiful sight, but how did you do this?”

 

“I’ll explain it all later Clarke. It’s quite a tale.” He headed into the stable as Clarke tried to take it all in; the house, the grounds, the fountain. The pond was gone but the rest of it was perfect.

 

“Ricky!” he yelled as he climbed down off of Pilot and helped Clarke down too. Ricky came out of the stable and stared in surprise at the woman that was with Mr. Blake. “Can you please take care of Pilot for me? I need to get my wife inside!”

 

“Your wife sir?” This was the first that he had heard about a wife.

 

“Well, she will be soon anyway!” Bellamy said with a laugh as he picked Clarke up and carried her into the house.

 

“Mazie! Mrs. Carmichael,” he amended as he entered the back door. 

 

“Goodness Mr. Bellamy, what’s all the yellin’ about,” she said and then stopped dead in her tracks as she saw Clarke in Bellamy’s arms. “Why goodness gracious, is she hurt?”

 

“Nope, but she is pregnant! This is Clarke and we’ll be married soon. Clarke love, this is Mazie Carmichael and she’s our housekeeper. You’re going to love her,” Bellamy said as he carried Clarke through the halls to the foyer.

 

“Bellamy, please put me down, I am able to walk on my own!” she laughed. _He wants to marry me!_ She almost squealed with joy at the thought. “Please, I want to look around at everything that you have done with the house. Can we go into papa’s office?”

 

Mrs. Carmichael watched from the hallway, at the young woman who was dressed so strangely and seemed to know her way in the house. She guessed that what Elsie told her about the girl was true, strange or as impossible as that seemed. Elsie had been quite worried about Mr. Bellamy but he seemed very happy right now.

 

“Absolutely love. Wait till you see how we’ve restored the woodwork in there. And wait to see what we found in the attics!”

 

At Clarke's exclamation of surprise he stood leaning against the door, watching her with eyes shining brightly with love and happiness as he watched her touch the woodwork and then the desk. She looked up at him, tears slowly trickling down her pale cheeks.

 

“Are those happy tears, Clarke? Please tell me they are and that I haven't made you unhappy?”

 

She nodded as he wiped her tears away with his thumbs before kissing the rest of them away. “It's so perfect, Bellamy. How did you know about the desk?”

 

“You told me about it and when Mercedes and I found this one in the attic I knew it had to be your fathers.”

 

Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes and Bellamy cupped her cheeks and tenderly brushed them away. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and tried to show her how much he had missed her. 

 

She was pregnant, carrying his child and if he hadn't got her back she would have been lost in an unforgiving world. The thought shot pain through his heart. He watched as he touched the desk with reverent fingers, stroking across the wood carefully.

“Two hours ago, he was sitting here, doing his accounts. I couldn't say goodbye to him, not to any of them, Bellamy.” This time the tears tore through her small frame, wracking sobs that ripped through his heart.

 

“Let's go upstairs, love,” he murmured, leading her to the staircase with his hand resting gently on her back. He grabbed her bag that was sitting on the floor and they ascended the stairs, as Clarke finally was able to stop crying.

 

“My bedroom,” she asked curiously.

 

“Well, yes, but I made it into our master suite. I hope that's okay?”

 

She nodded and took a big breath before walking into the room. Her eyes opened wide in surprise as the took in the room, a room she had said goodbye to an hour ago. “It's beautiful, Bellamy. She spied her grandmothers parlor chair in the sitting area and smiled at it and turned around and wrapped her arms around Bellamy, but this time there were no tears, only love shinning in her eyes. 

 

“You did all of this for me?” she asked, her teeth worrying her bottom lip a bit and her smile grew broader as he nodded his reply.

 

“I – I wanted it to feel like home to you, when you came back, Clarke.” 

 

“You never had a doubt that I would come home to you?” 

 

“I can't exactly say that; there were times I was scared to death that you wouldn't but I knew that no matter what, I wanted to make this a home. I can't wait to show you around it later.”

 

She nodded shyly at him and then he noticed she was trembling. “Are you cold, love?”

 

“It seems silly, but yes, just a bit. I warm bath would be good. Do we have a bathing, um, bath tub here in our rooms?”

 

He grinned ear to her question. “Oh yes, yes we do. Follow me,” he told her as he lead her into the bathroom.

 

She let out a delighted squeal when she saw the tub, which was huge, and he could see how excited she was. “It's big enough for two, he whispered into her ear and watched a a soft blush spread over her face.

 

“Oh my,” she said , a breathy tone in her voice almost sounded husky, as she looked at him, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks.

 

She walked back into the bedroom and started to remove her clothing, starting with the boots that she had worn. As her clothing came off he could tell she was shy with him and he went back into the bathroom and started the water in the tub. 

 

When he came back she was struggling with a myriad of buttons on her dress and without a word his fingers replaced hers, unfastening them all. When all that was left was the chemise and petty coat, he stepped away, trying not to embarrass her more than she already was.

 

She looked at him curiously as both garments came off and then her eyes looked down at the floor as she waiting for him to say something. She didn't try to cover herself, although she wanted to. But this was the man she was going to marry and since they already had a child on the way it seemed silly to cover herself now. 

 

“Aren't you bathing with me,” she asked another flame of embarrassment sweeping up her chest to her face.

 

He was surprised to say the least, and he stepped forward and kissed her sweetly and then removed his own clothes. She stared at him unabashedly, taking in his chest and the muscles in his arms and abdomen before sliding down to his erection that was jutting out of his pelvis. He watched her as she took him all in and then returned her stare, seeing how gorgeous she was. His mouth basically watered, wanting to capture her pert, rose colored nipples between his lips and run his hands over her curves.

 

Her breath caught in her throat as she moved to him and wrapped her arms around him, breathing him in. “I'm home,” she told him, “Home is wherever you are.”

 

He nodded and told her, “Come on, the tub should be full by now.” She reached for his hand as they entered the bathroom again and looked at the tub with yearning and grinned. 

 

“I don't believe I shall be chilled much longer,” she told him with smile that crooked up one side of her mouth. 

 

He laughed softly and then reached for a couple of bath bombs and tossed them in. She raised her brows quizzically and he shrugged. “You'll like them, they smell good.”

 

She stepped into the tub and held out his hand to her to help her in. A few seconds later they were both settled in the warm water that smelled vaguely of lavender now.

 

He sat her between his legs so that she could lean back against him and he heard her sigh contentedly. His hands moved over her body, taking stock of it and rested on her tummy. It still felt quite flat and he wondered when it would start to develop the baby bump. 

 

“You are so beautiful, Clarke. God, I have missed you so very much, love. I dream of you at night and as we worked on the house I imagined us her together, watching our children run and play in the yard. Sometimes I felt as if I would lose my mind if you didn't come back.”

 

“You really want this child, Bellamy? It does not make you unhappy that I am expecting?” He felt her body tense a bit when she asked the question.

 

“No, baby, it does not. I want this child very much. More if you want them later.” He smiled as he felt her sink back against him again. “I'm scared to think about what might have happened to you and the child if you didn't come back.”

 

She nodded, knowing too well what could happen. She took a deep breath and then turned in the tub so she could face him. Coffee colored eyes met ocean blue before their lips met in a kiss that seared and melted both of them. His hand pulled her tighter against him as he lips moved against her so enticingly that she moaned. His tongue licked over her lips and then slid in between them, kissing her deeply until they were both panting.

 

Suddenly he stood up and pulled her with him, stepping out of the tub and grabbing towels for both of them. He dried her body off, rubbing gently but in truth he couldn't wait another minute so his towel made quick work of his body and then he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. As he laid her down gently he stopped for a moment to quickly lock their door. Just in case he thought.

 

Then his body was covering hers, kisses whispering over her face and neck and she responded by whimpering with need. “Bellamy, please?”

 

“What do you want love, what do you need?”

 

“You, I need you.”

 

“I've got you, baby. I'll make you feel so good, I promise.”

 

The whimpers turned into deep moans as his mouth captured her lips again and he swallowed her moans with joy. Her hands were roaming over every inch of him she could reach and when her fingers found his hard manhood, she looked up at him and asked, “May I touch you?”

 

“Of course, Clarke, please touch me, please...”

 

It was his turn to moan she she explored his heated flesh, and instinctively stroked him with her hand, sliding up and down his length. She found the wetness on the head and spread it around teasingly. 

 

Suddenly he moved and began exploring her neck, the delicate skin soft and sweet between his lips. He nipped at it lightly and felt her moving her hips, squirming as desire took a stronger hold over her. Her breaths were coming more rapidly now, almost pants and he moved his hand to her breasts, teasing her nipples before taking first one and then the other into his mouth, plucking gently and then laving over them making he cry out. 

 

When he moved his fingers to her core he found she was very wet for him already. He dipped his fingers into her arousal and spread it around before massaging her already swollen bundle of nerves that stood sentinel over her entrance. She pushed against his hand, impatiently and then said, “Bellamy, please, I need you now.”

 

“I know, baby.” He returned to her lips as he settled between her legs and rubbed his engorged head in the slick juices that were gathered there. Finally when he was satisfied that she was wet enough he entered her slowly, giving her time to get used to him. 

 

Her hips automatically jerked upward to meet him and then tried to grind against him as well in an effort to get more intense friction. He smiled against her lips and then pushed the rest of the way into her, holding her still for a moment with his hands on her hips.

 

“Am I hurting you at all?”

 

“Bellamy, I swear if you don't start moving I will make you hurt!” she cried out. 

 

He chuckled and said, “Well, okay then. Impatient my love?”

 

She huffed out her response and he started moving earnestly in her. He kept to long, slow strokes at first and when her hips pushed against him again he began sliding harder and faster into her willing body. Her cries were constant now and he felt her walls tightening around her and he whispered, “Let go, baby. I've got you.”

 

That seemed to be all she needed, and as her orgasm overtook her she let out a keening cry that shook her whole body. He finally let go himself and shuddered as he spilled inside of her. 

 

When they both stopped shaking he rolled over and pulled her with him so that she was lying mostly on top of him. Their breaths were still shaky and when he glanced down at her she was wearing the most ridiculous, satisfied smile he had ever seen. He chuckled for a moment and she stared up at him, one eye brow raised, whether in question or irritation he didn't know. He only knew that it was delightful and he had never been this happy in his life.

 

All shyness gone now, she sat up in the bed and looked at him. “I know I have a lot to learn, but that truly was perfect, Bell.”

 

He chuckled again and this time the look was purely irritation. She started to turn away and he sat up and leaned in to kiss her. “Clarke, you were perfect. I don't think you need to worry about it at all. Well, maybe work on your irritation for you poor husband.”

 

She laughed then but teased, “Not my husband yet!” and gave him a saucy smile and a wink.

 

I reached out his hand and spread his fingers over her stomach. “We need to get you in to see a doctor soon. I want us to be careful so we don't hurt the baby.”

 

“Is that possible?” she asked. “Our making love could hurt the babe?”

 

“I don't think so but at any rate you'll need a full prenatal exam. Maybe vitamins or something.”

 

She nodded absentmindedly, wondering what vitamins were, but she guessed she'd find out later. “I'm hungry.” 

 

“Yeah, me too. First I want to call Mercedes then we'll go down and get something to eat, will that be okay?”

 

She nodded and he picked up the phone, smiling at her the whole time.

 

Bellamy waited impatiently for Mercedes to answer her phone. She was going in to the gallery today and he hoped he had caught her before she got to the city. He thought it was going to voicemail when he heard her answer.

 

“What’s up?” she asked, preparing to hit the drive through at Starbucks before getting on the interstate.

 

“Mercedes, you need to get here, NOW. Is Miller already in the city?”

 

“Probably on his way. Bellamy, what the hell is up?”

 

“Just GET here, okay?” He hit the ‘end’ key and pressed the speed dial for Miller. After another brief exchange he was satisfied that they were both on their way he and Clarke dressed; all she had were clothes from 1822 so he pulled out a tee shirt for her and a pair of sweat pants. 

 

They both laughed at how big the pants were on her but they also were hungry and before too long they were down the stairs and into the kitchen where Mrs. Carmichael had something cooking on the stove and what ever it was smelled really good.

 

“Just some homemade chicken soup. Didn't know what the young lady might like.” She smiled at Clarke who grinned appreciatively at the smell. 

 

“Any thing at all right now, I am starving, or maybe the babe is?”

 

Bellamy glanced at her, a concerned look on his face. He should have thought about feeding her before anything else. He needed to start thinking about these things he told himself.

 

Clarke had wandered out of the kitchen and he found her back in the office. She was standing near the bookshelves, lightly tracing her fingers over the marks with her brother’s and sister’s ages and heights. She looked at him, her small oval face alight with tears shining in her eyes. 

 

“I do not comprehend how you have accomplished all this Bellamy. Why have you done all of this?”

 

“For you,” he said simply. “I did it all for you, with the hope that it would bring you back to me Clarke.” He went to her and pulled her close and brushed his lips over her forehead, the merest whisper of a kiss. “I love you Clarke Griffin. Will you marry me, please?” It wasn’t the way he had imagined, but he meant it with his whole heart. “Clarke, wait here for a moment, please?”

 

She nodded and he took off at a run to the stairs and was back within a minute. Then he knelt down before her and said, “Lets try this again. Clarke you own my heart. You make my world complete and I love you so much that I sometimes can't catch my breath because of it. I want to spend the rest of my life making sure that you and our children know that. Now, will you marry me?” He held out a small box covered in turquoise blue velvet and opened it for her. Her eyes popped open wide as she stared at the most beautiful ring she had ever seen.

 

It was a beautiful ocean blue princess cut sapphire, with diamonds surrounding it. It took her breath away, to think that he had bought her something so lovely. His fingers were shaking a bit as he slipped it on her finger thankful that it fit well since he had to guess at the size. He had bought it two weeks ago, again with the hope that she would come back to him.

 

She closed her eyes and leaned into him. His words nearly took her breath away. He loved her! She had come 200 years to him, for this love that was greater than the both of them. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she nodded and said, “Yes, Bellamy Blake, I certainly shall marry you.” 

 

He picked her up and went to sit in the chair by the desk. Clarke curled up in his lap and sighed happily. Her ear was pressed against his chest and she could hear the soft beating of his heart and it was the most comforting sound she had ever heard. She looked up into his eyes and smiled, home at last.

 

Bellamy captured him sweet lips with his own, a long and tender kiss meant to let her know just how much he loved her, adored her. The kiss went on and on and for a moment he regretted that he couldn’t take her immediately upstairs to make love to her again. That was his last thought before the front door burst open and both Mercedes and Miller ran in, afraid of what they might find.

 

The last thing they ever expected to see was Clarke sitting on Bellamy’s lap, and both of them grinning happily.

 

Mercedes burst into tears and ran for Clarke, hugging her tightly. “We are never letting you out of our sight again! Do you understand me?”

 

“I do understand you Mercedes. And it is wonderful to see you, both of you again. I think this time I will stay put. Shall we tell them Bellamy?” she asked her eyes twinkling. She saw Miller standing back, almost shyly and she went to him and hugged him as well.

 

“Tell us what?” they chorused as one.

 

“I am pregnant. Bellamy and I are going to have a baby. I must believe that this will keep me here!”

 

Tears immediately started flowing down Mercedes cheeks and even Miller could be seen surreptitiously wiping a few from his own eyes. He reached out to shake Bellamy’s hand, patting him on the shoulder too before pulling him forward for a hug. They both laughed and sort of shuffled their feet awkwardly.

 

“Guys!” Mercedes laughed. Clarke looked on, delighted and while she didn’t understand quite what Mercedes meant, it was still a wonderful moment.

 

“Wow Clarke, look at your outfit,” Mercedes asked, fingering the fine linen material. “It’s hilarious, she laughed. “Bell, is that the best you could do for her?” He shrugged and laughed as well.

 

The sweat pants were tied tightly around her waist but they were still too long and the tee shirt hung down past her hips but she didn’t care – it was so soft she felt as if she never wanted to wear anything else. 

 

“I fear another shopping trip may be in order, but for some reason I am reluctant to ‘hit the mall’ again.”

 

They all laughed at that and Mercedes asked what had happened on her trip home last time. “There are some other shops we can go to, nearer to home to get you taken care of.”

 

“Listen, Clarke is hungry, so how about this? Will you all come back for dinner tonight, and please bring Mrs. Burton. I know she will be happy to see you, Clarke. She was almost angry at us for a bit and thought we must have done something to make you go away. Then we told her the truth. She was okay then.”

They all nodded and Clarke smiled again, remembering the kind older woman who had helped her when she was here before. After they said their goodbyes Bellamy went to see if lunch was ready, so Clarke headed into the sitting room to explore. She wandered around the room, looking at the beautiful molding on the fireplace that had replaced the white-washed brick in her grandmother’s day. It was very beautiful she had to admit as she lightly traced her fingers over the marble mantel piece. It needed a painting over it though and she knew exactly what she was going to paint.

 

“Oh Bellamy! The room – it’s so beautiful.”

 

“I'm so happy you like it, love.”

 

At dinner that night, which Mrs. B did attend and even Mrs. Carmichael was asked to down for Clarke listened attentively to everything that Bellamy, Mercedes and Miller filled her in on, everything that had happened while she was gone; their struggles to find information about her and her family, Bellamy’s decision to buy Roberts Folly and renovate it, finding the paintings – they left nothing out. Clarke listened and digested it all. It amazed her how hard they had all worked in order to try to get her back. A shadow crossed her face as she prayed she would stay this time.

 

“What’s wrong love?” Bellamy asked as he noticed the sadness that she wore upon her beautiful face.

 

“I – I can’t help but wonder if I will stay here this time. In my time, being unwed and pregnant is a horrible situation. It would ruin my whole family. The reason I was out today is because I was going to run away to New York to have our baby and raise it.”

 

Mercedes sucked in a sharp breath and felt a pain in her heart. How would Clarke have been able to survive there? “Clarke, you are right where you are supposed to be, I know it. The baby, the baby is the reason you are meant to be here. It’s the knot that binds you to us, to this time!”

 

“I feel such could be true myself, but _how_ do we know?”

 

Mercedes thumped her own head and said, “Bellamy! The article! Show it to her.”

 

Miller murmured ‘yes’ and Bellamy got up and went to the office to grab the article that Horace had brought them.

 

“What article is this?” Clarke asked, clearly puzzled.

 

“It’s sort of what made us believe that you really would come back,” Mercedes said as Bellamy came back into the room with a piece of paper he was unfolding. 

 

Bellamy sat down next to her and said, “Before you look at this, let me preface it by saying it will be a shock to you, love, but I think you should read it anyway.” He handed the page to her so she could read it and watched her face as she read the words that had been copied there.

 

Tears sprang to her eyes and finally ran down her face in silent rivulets. She hastily wiped them away before looking up. “So I am here to stay then.” She looked at these people who were now her family and knew that she was where and when she was supposed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love a happy Bellarke ending, don't you? Seems like we might not get one after all on the show. : ( Thank heavens for fan fic, right?
> 
> I find myself in tears as I posted this. Only one left. You all have meant so much to me, your kudos and comments give me encouragement when I feel down. I love all of you and thank you from the bottom of my heart.
> 
> Next chapter: Epilog, three years later. Will Clarke have adapted to this new world? Will the baby be a girl or boy? We'll take a look at all of it and gather for a very happy party in honor of Mercedes. 
> 
> I will also post a small teaser for my next story, With Stars in Our Eyes.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not too much to say here. Clarke has adapted well to her new life.

Epilogue

 

Three years later.

 

Time flew past it seemed to Clarke. It took her awhile to really figure things out but with each day she grew more confident in living in these times. She still missed her family so much and felt guilty that they thought her dead most likely. Even though she had made a message in the past for Bellamy to find, there was no way for her to send a message backwards. Digging through so many records, online and in genealogical libraries she found out that her grandmother had passed 6 years after she left and her father 12 years later. She couldn't find any records mentioning her sisters and brother Jackson, but Harrison, who had inherited Roberts Folly lived into his 80;s. His children inherited it from him, but after the civil war little was mentioned about the Griffin family.

 

Lawrence Griffin, the last of the Griffin's sold the mill and apparently left the property a few years after WW2. Both his sons had died and if he had any daughters none were mentioned. Whatever happened to him after he left was unknown.

 

Horace had been a great help in searching through sources for information. Clarke had come to love the older man dearly and thought of him somewhat as a father figure. She and Mercedes made sure he was well taken care of when his rheumatism got so bad that he sold the paper. It was sad to watch it close down but no one wanted to buy it because it was so dated it would take way too much money to modernize it. One year ago Horace passed from this life, eager really to be reunited with his beloved wife Beatrice who had passed 10 years before him. Clarke and Mercedes both cried so hard as they sorted various records and boxes at the paper building. Mercedes discovered that he had kept track of her many misdeeds as a youth and kept them to create a scrapbook of memories.

 

Horace had inspired Clarke to study history. There was so much to learn it was almost mind-boggling to her. When she discovered that there were now 50 states she only shook her head and asked where are they all, which prompted Bellamy to show her a map of the states. In her time there has only been 24. Things change so much and it made her determined to learn all she could about the past and the present.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Jacob Patrick Blake, do not smash your french fries onto the table top!” Clarke declared as she checked her text message from Mercedes on her iPhone. Mercedes wanted to confirm that Clarke and Bellamy would be at the party tonight. ‘Of course’ she texted back.

 

She looked up at Jacob again and almost groaned; since he couldn’t smoosh the fries any longer he was now dipping them in his frosty like it was ketchup. “Mm, mama,” he said with his father’s grin as he sucked the fry clean of the frozen chocolate treat. He was the very image of Bellamy, wild curly hair and a galaxy of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Her heart melted every time she looked at either of them.

 

“Heaven help me!” she said out loud, causing the woman at the next table to smile.

 

“What is he, about two?” the woman asked. She was reading her Kindle and Clarke looked on with interest. She really wanted a Kindle imaging having a portable library at her fingertips!

 

“Yes, a little over. And soon to be a big brother,” she said as she ran her hand over her protruding belly with a soft smile.

 

“Boy or girl this time?”

 

“It’s a girl,” Clarke said, grinning. “And a very active one; sometimes, like now it feels as if she is swinging from my ribs.” Abigail Aurora, you are going to be another handful, just like your big brother she thought.

 

The woman nodded and gathered up her things in preparation to leave. “Well, he’s a cutie. Take care of yourself now!” With a wave she was gone.

 

Clarke’s phone started ringing with Bellamy’s ring tone and she smiled; sometimes he was just too over protective about her and Jacob. “Yes my sexy husband?” she asked with a giggle. She heard him let out a slight groan on the other end of the phone.

 

“Are we all set for the party tonight? Mercedes is driving me nuts!”

 

“Yes, Connie will be there to babysit Jacob by 6:30.”

 

“Me no baby!” Jacob declared from the other side of the table as he dipped another french fry in his ice cream.

 

Bellamy heard him and chuckled, “That’s my boy!”

 

“Yes, well both he and your daughter are driving me to distraction today. I am looking forward to a night away,” she said and then felt bad because it sounded almost heartless. Jacob continued to play with his food no longer paying attention. Clarke shook her head and told Bellamy, “I need to go and get him home for a nap. Of course, I think I’m going to have to toss him into the washing machine before that. He’s covered in smashed french fries and chocolate ice cream!”

 

“Okay love. I’ll see you at home later. I love you, Clarke,” he said, his voice tender and filled with emotion.

 

“I love you too, Bellamy, so very much.” She punched the ‘end’ key on her phone and tossed it into her purse. She grabbed the wet wipes out of the diaper bag and wondered where to start wiping first because Jacob was covered from head to toe in salt and chocolate. It took 10 minutes of struggle, but the job was finally accomplished and they headed out to the minivan and she strapped Jacob into his car seat.

 

After she started the van she flipped on the DVD player for Jacob and popped in Up for him to watch. For her, she turned on the radio and listened to the soothing sounds of John Mayer and hummed along as he sang _New Light_. The 20 minute trip home went smoothly and they got there just in time because Jacob was just starting to fall asleep. She got him out of the van and inside without waking him up too much. He didn’t even protest as she put him into his bed for a nap. As she tugged his shoes off of his feet and she felt over-whelmed with how much she loved him and his father and how happy she was in this life.

 

Downstairs she headed into the office to check her email and sure enough she had one from Mercedes. Sending and receiving letters or messages these days was incredibly easy. If only she could send a message to the past and let them know she was okay and happy.

 

After the email she had a few minutes so she logged into her Face Book account and laughed as she read some of the things on her wall from friends. Yes, friends because she had met many. If felt as if she had always been here. She finally decided to get off the computer and head upstairs to take a shower while Jacob was still sleeping- it would be so much easier she decided.

 

Oh, how she still loved the smell of things now! There were things she missed about 1822; mostly her family and the serenity that surrounded her life there, but she would not trade this life for that one. This is where she was meant to be.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Bellamy and Clarke pulled up to Archers Grove and saw many other cars in the drive. It was going to be quite a night they decided. As they made their way into the foyer that was filled with people who were laughing and talking and sipping their drinks Clarke’s eyes sparkled with delight Bellamy noticed. She headed straight for Mercedes and the women hugged one another warmly.

 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Mercedes exclaimed almost breathlessly.

 

Bellamy and Clarke both laughed and Clarke said, “As if we could have missed it what with the constant reminders you sent to both of us! Where’s Miller?”

 

“Right behind you. Clarke, I swear you look more beautiful each and every time I see you. Being pregnant suits you my dear.”

 

Clarke leaned up and kissed Miller on the cheek and watched with amusement as he blushed. Bellamy laughed and said, “Better watch it, Monty might get jealous, thinking that you are hitting on his guy.”

 

Miller’s eyes lit up at the mention of his partner, Monty Greern. They had been together for two years now and were very happy. But tonight was all about Mercedes’ news and everyone was gathering around to hear it. He leaned down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek and then touched her baby bump and inquired, “How is she today?” His eyes twinkled as he awaited her reply, which was lead off with a small groan.

 

“She practicing to be a trapeze flier with my ribs.” She took in a deep breath and then continued, “The only person who seems to be able to calm her is her daddy!”

 

Bellamy chuckled good-naturedly and bent over to kiss her belly. “Hey baby girl, give your mommy a break, okay?” With that she calmed down and Clarke sighed and shook her head. All of them laughed as Monty joined them and kissed Miller on the cheek and was filled in on the story. Clarke and Bellamy circled the room, talking with Tavie and her husband Lincoln for a few minutes.

 

After her initial meeting with Octavia, usually called Tavie they found they had a great deal in common and often formed a united front to tease Bellamy. She loved her nephew with all her heart and spoiled the child rotten. Clarke accepted her and loved her as a sister and when Tavie got engaged to Lincoln two years ago Clarke insisted on throwing a huge party for her and their friends. Clarke was her maid of honor at the wedding a few months ago.

 

Raven and Murphy spotted Clarke and Bellamy and came over, both of them trying to get a hug in at the same time. Clarke laughed at the two of them, a very unlikely couple it seemed and so very happy together. She and Murphy had formed a tight bond and he always knew how to make her laugh and there had been times when she definitely needed it.

 

Finally Roan entered the room and all eyes turned to look at the tall and imposing man who entered the room in a gorgeous tux. At 6'2 he was a foot taller than Mercedes and they made a striking couple. Clarke’s eyes lit up as Roan spotted her and winked.

 

“Roan, so lovely to see you. My goodness, a tux no less!” Clarke teased.

 

“Of course, it's very manly and bold don’t you agree?” He leaned down and kissed Mercedes soundly, not caring if anyone saw. Miller raised his glass and called everyone’s attention.

 

Mercedes grinned and cleared her throat before she spoke. “Hello everyone! I’d like to welcome you all here and thank you all for coming. I’ve known many of you for most of my life, some of you still even like me,” she quipped and then waited for the laughter to die down. “Well, that would be most of you that I didn’t prank that is. But I wanted you to know that I have finally found my match; I’d like to introduce you to my fiancé, Roan Winters.”

 

There were sounds of surprise that slipped through the room as everyone looked at Roan, standing proudly next to Mercedes. The room was quickly filled with clapping and congratulations as people made their way over to offer personal wishes.

 

Brian Graham, one of Mercedes rejected suitors from the past stopped by to give her a quick kiss on the cheek and shake Roan’s hand. “You look a bit familiar, but I can’t place you Roan. Are you from around here?”

 

“Oh, now and again you might say. My family has been in the neighborhood for several hundred years actually.” He looked down at Mercedes and grinned, before he kissed the top of her head.

 

Clarke sighed contentedly and wiped a few tears away from her eyes. Bellamy noticed; there was little he didn't notice in fact. He wrapped his arm a bit more tightly around her waist, holding her closer. “Happy, my love?”

 

“Forever happy, Bell.”

 

The End

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Sneak Peek for**

**With Stars in Our Eyes**

 

“What are you doing prowling around here so late?”

He laughed at the ‘prowling around part’, and then said, “How would you like to go on an adventure?”

For a moment she thought he might be joking and then curiosity got the better of her. “Around here? What, you gonna go and shoot snakes or something?” It was sort of a popular pastime around here, since there was a never-ending abundance of the venomous creatures.

He laughed, and said, “No, something I hope you might find a bit more entertaining.”

At her nod of consent he held his hand out to her and she only paused for a moment before accepting it. “Follow me, then and an adventure you shall have. C’mon, you’re chariot awaits.” He gave her what was a truly devastating smile; literally her heart did a flip-flop and her breath caught in her throat for a moment. He might be a rough and ready soldier at times but he was also charming and knew how to use that smile to his advantage.

They walked around the base until they were in the motor pool standing in front of a jeep and he spread his arm out with a flourish and quipped, “Your chariot.” Again that smile. She mentally rolled her eyes in an attempt to clear her head.

She grinned at him instead and said, “Well of course it is,” as she climbed in aware of the warmth of his hand he had placed on her shoulder.

“Buckle up; this is going to be a bit of a bumpy ride.”

One of her eyebrows rose in humor. “Quoting Bette Davis, are we?” Her voice was tripping with laughter.

“Nah, I didn’t really like ‘All About Eve’. That was just a precautionary warning.” He started the jeep and soon they were heading out of the base, but they didn’t travel far as it wasn’t really safe. They climbed a small hill and faced away from the camp and he turned the jeep off.

“Um, okay?” she queried, looking at him questioningly.

“Look up, princess.”

She let the name go by without a real protest, but he could see her mouth tighten a bit as she bit her lower lip. That came close to undoing him, all he could do was stare at her lips now, aching to kiss them. He realized that she was watching him, staring at her lips and he finally cleared his throat and pointed his finger upward.

At last she tore her gaze away from him and settled back so she could more easily look up. Then she saw what he wanted her to see: an asteroid storm was taking place and the cold, clear sky, away from most lights was the perfect place to spy it.

“Ooh, how beautiful!,” she exclaimed. “Bell, it was well worth coming out here for.”

Pleased that she used his nick-name again, he nodded and then handed her a pair of binoculars to help her see more. He grabbed a pair for him and for a little while they both just watched the ever-changing show of stars sweeping through the sky for their benefit.

“Leonids, if you’re interested. Not the most abundant shower, but still not bad, huh?”

“Not bad at all. When I was a little girl my dad and I would take a blanket out into the backyard and lie down, watching the showers for hours.” He heard her voice crack a bit as she told him and all he wanted to do was to pull her to him and make it easier for her.

She had told him one night at the club, about her relationship with her father and about his death. He had died from a car accident when she was 16 and she missed him terribly.

“If it’s too hard for you, we can leave,” he said, him voice full of caring and concern. He has watched as she seemed to swallow back tears and he didn’t want to do anything to upset her.

“No, those are happy memories. Actually all my memories with my dad are happy, well, until his death that is.”

He nodded and reached for her hand, holding it in empathy.

It felt good, and he relaxed, absorbing the warmth of his hand for a few seconds. She knew that it wasn’t a romantic gesture, but one of comfort and she appreciated that. Still after a moment she let it go, and looked back up at the stars, a huge lump lodged in her throat.

_I will not cry, she intoned over and over in her head – I will NOT cry._

He saw how she struggled to get her emotions under control and thought this probably wasn’t the best idea. But with her leaving soon he had wanted to spend a quiet evening with her and this might be the last chance. He was suddenly aware that she was watching him closely and he cleared his throat, trying to focus on anything but the way she watched him.

 

His soulful brown eyes were the perfect canvas to see the lights streaking across and she loved looking at them. When he glanced at her again she reluctantly pulled her eyes away and focused again on the meteors above them.

They both had the same idea, switch to a happier subject and she asked about John Murphy.

“Been friends with him about since high school now. Good guy for sure but he sometimes is a bit clueless as to social behavior. Still, I know he has my back and that means a lot out here.”

She nodded in positive response and said, “He’s really funny. I liked him. He had some great jokes. I need to get him together with Bentz, that would be a dirty joke fest to relish.” The moment she said it she saw him tense up, him mouth pursed into a tight line.

“That wasn’t the kind of joke that, well, it was inappropriate.”

“You think I’ve never heard a dirty joke before?” she teased.

“It just, oh hell, I don’t know…”

“Bellamy, I’m probably not as much of a lady as you think.” She was grinning widely at him and added a wink.

Suddenly it struck him as funny as a thought came to him. “I’ll believe that. Clarke you scared the shit out of me when you yelled at poor Parker up on the mountain!” Explosive laughter burst forth from him, a real belly laugh and she joined him in it.

“Hey, what can I say? I’m bossy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love a happy Bellarke ending, don't you? I send my deepest appreciation and love to everyone of you who have supported this story by reading, commenting and leaving kudos. Each story I write I leave a part of myself in and this one was no different.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the sneak peek at With Stars in Our Eyes. I hope to have it ready to go in a few weeks. It's far different from this one, Bellamy and Clarke are both in the army in Afghanistan, although they don't stay that way for long. I will tell you that when I started writing this I spent so much time looking at maps of Afghanistan, looking up terrorists, insurgents, and weapons that I was afraid I was going to get a knock on my door with the FBI coming to question me, lol. If you haven't subscribed to me, you might want to so that you see it when it comes up. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hugs to all my lovely readers and supporters.
> 
>  
> 
> Cyndy


End file.
